The Swedes and Swede-Finns of the Independence Valley (Rochester), Washington Area

THE SWEDES A N D SWEDE-FINNS
OF THE INDEPENDENCE VALLEY (ROCHESTER),
WASHINGTON AREA
O L O V G. G A R D E B R I N G 1
The best known rural Swedish immigrant settlements are in
Minnesota, Illinois, Iowa, and, to a lesser degree, in Nebraska and
Kansas. However, many Swedes and other Scandinavians settled in
the Pacific Northwest, and the Rochester-Independence Valley area
in western Washington became an area similar to one of those very
typical Scandinavian communities "back east." At the same time,
however, this area developed in its own unique context and with its
own character.
Initial settlement of the Rochester-Independence area occurred
from the 1850s to the 1890s, and was undertaken by people from the
prairie states of the Midwest, many of whom were of English or
German descent—along with a few Swedes. Toward the end of the
1890s, however, hundreds of Swedes, Swede-Finns, and Finns came
to the region, and a unique and interesting history developed. Today,
second generation descendants of these immigrants like to tell about
the early days, and many third and later generation descendants like
to listen. This interest in the past and the wish to keep it alive are
also shown in a number of recent publications and in the many
personal and family histories, rich with illustrations, that have been
written. The Rochester High School even teaches classes in genealogi­cal
research; and students have helped restore an old cemetery deep
in a forest called "Finn Hill" and collected information about persons
buried there as well as in the Grand Mound Cemetery.
Appropriately, this history was celebrated on 13 October 1996 in
the town's "Swede Hall," in an event organized by the Thurston
County Committee for the Sesquicentennial of [Swedish] Immigration
and the local Vasa Lodge in Olympia.
The western part of Washington state is dominated by the Cascade
and Olympic mountain chains. Separating these barriers is the Puget
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Sound Basin, an inland sea which stretches for a hundred miles from
the Strait of Juan de Fuca in the north to Olympia, the state capital,
in the south. Most of the state's population is concentrated in this
region—much of it in the cities of Everett, Seattle, Bremerton, and
Tacoma.
At the southern end of the Puget Sound lie Olympia and Thurston
county. This area is characterized by lowlands, varying in width from
a few hundred feet to three or four miles, rolling hills, deep forests,
and innumerable creeks and rivers. It is in this region, just sixteen
miles south of Olympia, that the community of Rochester is located.
Though usually referred to as a town, Rochester is actually part of a
large, unincorporated area with a population of about eight thousand.
Measuring about twelve miles east to west and about eight miles
north to south, the Rochester-Independence area is bounded by
Interstate 5 on the east, the Black Hills and Capital Forest on the
north, and the Grays Harbor County line on the west.
Of the waterways in the area, the largest is the Chehalis River,
which comes up from the south, follows the edge of the hills, passes
the Chehalis Indian Reservation and Oakville, and finally empties
into Grays Harbor on the Pacific Ocean. The river is navigable and
historically has been very important for the transport of logs to
downstream mills. Also meandering through the region are the Snake
and Black rivers and Independence Creek.
When the first immigrants started to move north from Oregon
Territory in the 1850s, they traveled a route that closely follows
today's Interstate 5 from Portland to the Puget Sound region.
Increasingly important to the region's settlement were the building
of the Northern Pacific Railroad line through Olympia to Tacoma and
Seattle and the development of large-scale logging operations in the
area including those of Thomas and Joseph Bourdeaux's Mason
County Logging Company (1885) and the Weyerhausers.2
According to one account, Rochester was originally named
Moscow by a Russian immigrant. Then, when a post office was
established there in 1890, the town was renamed Rochester by an
other settler in remembrance of his New York hometown. However,
David James states that no records verify the Moscow myth. Accord­ing
to him a Mrs. Julia C. Fleming "platted 75 blocks and filed this
site of Rochester in the Thurston County auditor's office on October
4,1890." She named it Rochester because she was born near Roches­ter,
Indiana. Thus, the founder was a she, not a Russian, not a he, and
not from New York.3
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~ LEGEND ~
GRAND MOUND
BILL JOHNSON RESIDENCE
OLD SWEDE HALL
SWEDISH LUTHERAN CHURCH
HELSING JUNCTION
RIVERSIDE SCHOOLHOUSE
ERICKSON FARM
FINNISH LUTHERAN CHURCH
BOWMAN FARM
SCHOOLHOUSE (GRADES 1-8.)
RUMMY HALL
FINN HILL CEMETERY
Map of the Rochester, Washington area. (Courtesy of Raymond Abbott, Survey Technician
and Artist-Draftsman with Bracy & Thomas, Inc., Olympia, WA.)
7
In the forests south of the Chehalis, a hilly country with many
creeks in the bottom of the valleys, there were few roads, (mainly
used for logging), and few settlers. The exceptions lay in the area
southwest of the Helsing Junction (Map, #5), named by a Finn after
Helsinki, and the Independence Valley, along the Independence
Creek. (The latter name was given by surveyors who came to a valley
which did not have a name. It was the Fourth of July, and so they
called it Independence.4) Independence Creek has two tributaries,
Finn Creek and North Fork. The land surrounding these tributaries
is an important part of the Rochester area and has an interesting
history.
There were few people in southwestern Washington before 1850,
but with the gold rush to California many came west. The river
plains were settled first, between the 1850s and the 1890s, mostly by
people from the prairie states of Middle America. Many of these were
of English or German descent. Gradually, a few Swedes settled there
too. Some of the settlers traveled north through Oregon, partly
following the Cowlitz and Chehalis rivers to the area at Grand
Mound, named after a hill that rises about 100 feet over the very flat
landscape. (Map, #1)
A m o n g the first pioneers was Samuel James, a p r o s p e r o u s E n g l i s h m an
from Cornwall, who had emigrated to Wisconsin in 1 8 4 3 . Not satisfied with
the conditions there, he came with his wife and eight c h i l d r e n to G r a n d
M o u n d , twenty miles south of Olympia, in 1 8 5 2 . James claimed to a piece
of the p r a i r i e along the Chehalis R i v e r — a part of the grassy land along the
r i v e r that could easily be cultivated. The family prospered and g r e w , and
m a n y of the descendants stayed in the area. One of the most important
roads, from G r a n d M o u n d west to H e l s i n g J u n c t i o n , is the James R o a d .5
T h e r e were v e r y few white people in 1 8 5 2 , and the James's closest
neighbors lived f o u r miles to the n o r t h , but there were m a n y I n d i a n s in the
area. The relationship between them and the James family was good, though
a scare ran t h r o u g h the area two years later. Relations with the I n d i a n s
r e m a i n e d m i x e d a n d a n y conflicts over o w n e r s h i p in the area were settled
w h e n President Lincoln established the Chehalis I n d i a n Reservation in July
1 8 6 4 . (It was comprised of 4 , 2 2 4 acres, adjacent to the Chehalis River, in the
v i c i n i t y of Oakville in Grays H a r b o r C o u n t y . ) 6
The number of people in the area increased rapidly. In 1855, there
were 227. The soil was good and easy to plow. The river was full of
salmon. There was an abundance of raspberries, gooseberries and
currants. There was no reason for the settlers to starve. In addition,
coal was discovered, which provided an alternative to wood for
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keeping fires going, and people were employed in the mines.
A school was started for the children, and ministers came around.
Services were held in homes. The James's home was a frequent
meeting place for local people as well as travelers, as it was located
on the most traveled route.
In the late 1890s and early 1900s, greater numbers of settlers ar­rived—
especially Swedes from Västerbotten in northern Sweden and
Swede-Finns from Österbotten in northern Finland. Generally, Finns
from other parts of the country came later. The old adage first come,
first served held true. The earliest settlers had claimed the land on the
prairie. The last ones got mostly stump land in the narrow valleys
and hills.
Most of the new immigrants also chose to settle in places where
work was available, and where they could make a living doing the
kind of work with which they were familiar. The best land was
quickly taken. The forest land had been bought up by large lumber
companies. By the 1890s what land was available was margin­al—
narrow flat areas close to the Chehalis or along creeks that might
overflow in the spring or on the slopes of the hills. Those who came
even later had to take what was left. Many of these were Finns, who
settled farther up on the hills in Independence Valley, as can be seen
from the names of the roads in the area such as Hyppa, Huhta, and
Kangas.
With the increase of people, there was a great demand for food,
clothing, tools, and for lumber to build houses and barns. There was
plenty of work in the forests, cutting and skidding, or in the local
saw mills. Water falls along the creeks provided power for the saw
mills until steam driven machines took over. Before the railroads
were built and provided faster transportation, the Chehalis was used
to float timber to the big saw mills in Aberdeen and Hoquiam.
The extent of the opportunities for immigrants is reflected in the
rapid growth of the area. Washington became a territory in 1853, and
population grew rapidly, especially after 1870.
Table I: Washington State Population: 1850-1900
1850 1,200 1880 75,000
1860 11,600 1890 357,000
1870 24,000 1900 518,000
See: United States Census reports and The World A l m a n a c a n d Book of
F a c t s (Pharos Books, 1992), 74-5.
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Better transportation was an important element in these develop­ments,
particularly the completion of the trans-continental railroads.
The Northern Pacific reached Seattle in 1883. At the same time,
people continued to move to Washington from the south, and also
from the north, from Canada. Prior to 1889, only a few had come
from the Scandinavian countries, according to what may be deduced
from the census of that year, taken in connection with Washington
becoming a state. Unfortunately, there were as yet no precincts and
thus, no information is available specifically for Rochester and
surrounding area.
A comparison of the numbers of recorded immigrants in 1889 and
in 1910, by which time the greatest influx had taken place, are of
considerable interest, even though the census of 1889 refers to all of
Thurston county, and the one of 1910 specifically to the Rochester
precinct.
The 1889 census lists slightly more than 9,000 persons in the
county. The tally is not considered quite accurate because some
people were missed, and neighbors filled in information for others
who were not found at home when the enumerator came by.
Neighbors were asked but did not always have accurate information
about each other.
In 1889, 42 persons described themselves as immigrants from
Sweden and 9 from Finland. Of the Swedes, 34 were men. Of these
29 were between 20 and 49 years in age, 14 were married and 25
were single. No information is available about the other 3. With a
couple of exceptions, the men described themselves as laborers. 4 said
they were farmers. Of the 8 women, 6 were married.
Judging by the names of the 8 persons from Finland, they were all
Finland-Swedes. Of these the 7 men were between 20 and 35 years
old, their marital status is unclear, and they were all laborers. The
only female was 20, single, and worked as a tailor in Olympia.
O n e of the earliest i m m i g r a n t s , not i n c l u d e d a m o n g the above and
c e r t a i n l y a n exception to the stereotypes derived from the census, was a n
o u t s t a n d i n g organizer and businessman, Bror A x e l Sjöberg, born in
Kristinestad, Finland. H e emigrated to A m e r i c a i n 1 8 6 7 a n d changed his
n a m e to Seaberg. After m o v i n g to Washington in 1 8 7 9 , he started the
A b e r d e e n Packing Company a n d the A b e r d e e n C a n n e r y . H e owned fishing
boats a n d l u m b e r mills, and employed many of his c o u n t r y m e n , who earned
good money d u r i n g the five to s i x months they spent onboard ships while
f i s h i n g a n d o n the way to a n d from Alaska. He employed about 1,000 m e n .
Seaberg became a well known and highly regarded man. I n 1 8 8 9 , he was
elected to the first State Senate.7
10
Success stories like the above were, of course, encouraging to
people who were unhappy with their lives in the home land. The
census of 1889 gives only a limited picture of the population from
Sweden and Finland during the early days in the Thurston County.
It may be added that also listed are 22 from Denmark and the same
number from Norway. The number of immigrants from Finland
increased significantly when Russia's treatment of Finland turned
harsh and capricious after 1896-97. According to Anders Myhrman,
perhaps three quarters of the Finland-Swedish immigrants to the
United States came from the Österbotten.8 From one of the province's
three counties, Vaasa, 41,500 took out passports between 1893 and
1924, most of them after 1900.
The Rochester precinct covers most of the area with which we are
concerned here, but is only a small part of Thurston County.
Therefore, the increase in the number of immigrants from 1889 to
1910 is the more noteworthy. (The southern part of Independence
Valley, which is in Lewis County, had by now also been settled, but
is not included in the following.)
Of the 805 persons listed in the precinct in 1910, 256 (32%) were
"Swedes" or "Finns," but the exact origins of these settlers is often
unclear. 203 were labeled Finn-Swedes or Swede-Finns, 27 as Finns,
and 25 as Swedes. When origin is in doubt, it is tempting to assume
that Swedes and Swede-Finns have names that are easy to recognize,
and that there is no mistaking a Finnish surname. The following
story, however, reveals how following this assumption might lead to
error.
L e n n a r t H u h t a was born on 22 N o v e m b e r 1 8 8 4 , in Gamlakarleby, Vaasa,
F i n l a n d , a place with strong Swedish associations. His father was Johan
H u h t a , the mother Johanna Pietila. Lennart came to the United States in
1 9 0 6 . Because the correct F i n n i s h p r o n u n c i a t i o n of H u h t a is difficult, he
changed his n a m e to Johnson, perhaps preferring to add "son" to the
anglicized version of his father's first name. "When he moved to I n d e p e n ­dence
Valley there w e r e too m a n y people named Johnson, so he changed his
n a m e back to H u h t a . "9
To return to the above mentioned 256 persons: most of them were
young. 133 (52%) were under 20; 38% were between 20 to 49; and
only 6 persons were more than 60 years old. Many of the young men
were single; those who were married usually had large families; and
almost all of the children were born in this country. In the neighbor­ing
Grand Mound Township, with a population of 395 persons, there
were 30 Swedes, no Finland-Swedes, and only 3 Finns. Bucoda
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Township showed only 3 Swedes; in Tenino township there were 21
Swedes and 2 Finns. These numbers support the notion that Swedes
had come to this area somewhat earlier than the majority of the
people from Österbotten, who settled farther to the West.
In general one can say that about two thirds of the immigrants
were young men, one third females. Probably very few had an
education beyond grade school. Some found work as fishermen. Most
were laborers who generally worked part of the time in the forests or
related timber industries. Some found jobs as craftsmen, carpenters,
blacksmiths, miners, or farmhands. They were also employed in
building and railroad construction.10 Some worked in the towns,
where job options were more varied. They often moved from one job
to another, depending on what was available.11 Women appear to
have had little difficulty finding work as domestics or in the boarding
houses and taverns of the growing cities of the area.
Stores in Gate City on the Burlington-Northern right-of-way, c. 1920.
The common goals for many of these immigrants were to get a
place of their own and "succeed." As will be seen in the following,
achieving these was difficult. The immigrants had little cash, and
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most men had to take jobs to raise both start-up capital and sustain
farming efforts. In addition, making a small farm a sustainable
operation required the collective effort of a family. Often, without a
wife and children success was unlikely. In the early days of settle­ment
this last obstacle was a particularly serious problem because
there were many more men than women.
Logging
Logging provided the job and income base essential to the
development of the Rochester-Independence Valley area.
Much of western Washington was covered by forest, and big
logging companies bought up large areas of land. Around the turn of
the century, logging was the biggest business in the state, and it
provided plenty of jobs—in the camps and saw mills, in transporta­tion
and construction.
As has been seen, the majority of the immigrants from Sweden
and Finland in the region were young men, between 20 to 35 years
of age. They came from small towns and the countryside and were
used to hard work on fishing boats, farms, and in the forests. Many
were loggers. They knew how to swing an ax and pull a saw, and for
many the first job in the new country was in a logging camp.
For the immigrants from northern Sweden and western Finland,
the landscape may have reminded them of their homeland, but they
found much that was new. For example, although they recognized
some of the trees they saw, there were striking differences. In Sweden
or Finland pine and fir trees were considered big if they were a foot
in diameter and 60 feet tall. Here, the Douglas fir was the dominant
tree. Most were several feet in diameter, and some of the larger trees
could be as much as ten feet in diameter and up to 250 feet tall. As
these trees grew taller, the lower branches died and fell off, showing
the large, straight trunks, with the top branches making a canopy
against the light and a drop stopper to the rain - for a while. There
also were pine trees and huge Western red cedars. Maples were
common on low lands, and spruce and alders on wet lands. Also
very common but not as desirable was the hemlock.
The forests of the Northwest were dense, dark, and wet during
much of the year, because of all the rain. During the winter, on a few
days the thermometer might get down to zero, but temperatures were
often right around freezing. It seldom snowed, except in the moun­tains.
Logging in all its aspects has been described by many authors, in
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words and in pictures. Photographers came around and set up their
equipment. The men were happy and proud to get pictures of
themselves doing many different kinds of work, particularly when
cutting down giant trees or standing on or beside them, showing the
tremendous dimensions. Many trees, felled and down on the ground,
were thicker than the men that stood beside them were tall.12
Two men on springboards, cutting Sitka spruce.
A newcomer might have had experience cutting down trees in his
homeland with what he learned was called a "Swede saw." It consisted of a
blade in a wood frame, about two a n d a half to three feet long. Opposite the
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blade, over the center bar of wood and connected to the two end (or s i d e)
pieces, were wires with a t u r n b u c k l e in the middle to tighten or loosen the
blade. Here, this kind of saw was a c a r p e n t e r ' s tool. The trees of the
Northwest demanded q u i t e difference tools. Typical were the two-man saws,
6 to 8 feet long, with wide blades, deep teeth, and a h a n d l e on each end. But
even a saw that long was too short to c u t down the biggest trees. Then, two
saws were taken to the blacksmith shop—the logging camps always had one
close by—to be welded together. When the saw got hard to p u l l because of
pressure and heat, the blade was lubricated with kerosene or oil from
coal—obtained from local mines.
F e l l i n g the huge trees often required the combination of u n u s u a l ly
t e c h n i q u e s a n d e q u i p m e n t . A t the g r o u n d level the wood was e x t r e m e l y hard
a n d almost impossible to c u t t h r o u g h . Therefore, the biggest trees were c ut
down with the m e n working 6 to 7 feet above the g r o u n d , s t a n d i n g on
"springboards." These narrow platforms were made from pieces of s t r o ng
wood, about 2 inches thick, 7 to 8 inches wide, and 5 to 6 feet long. T o one
end was fastened a piece of i r o n , which had a sharp edge sticking up about
a quarter of an i n c h a n d was shaped like the heel of a shoe. This end was p ut
into a slit in the tree, the slit being c u t at a slightly downward angle, so the
board was held f i r m l y in place but still could be easily removed. It was
probably quite a shock for a n e w c o m e r to see (or t r y for the first time)
s o m e t h i n g so u n f a m i l i a r . 1 3
T h e clothes these i m m i g r a n t s brought from the old c o u n t r y were also
inadequate in the n e w s u r r o u n d i n g s . Loggers were often wet because of all
the r a i n . T h e n they learned about a v e r y tightly woven cotton that was
somewhat rain resistant. Jackets and pants made of this material were so
stiff that they could "stand" u n s u p p o r t e d when they were removed after a
day's work. They were labeled "tin p a n t s " and "tin coats," were like a suit
of a r m o r w h e n they had dried and p u t on again. To make the clothing even
m o r e water resistant, loggers rubbed paraffin on the heated gar­m
e n t s — t h e r e b y making them even stiffer.
The workers lived in camps, some of which were quite large, such
as at Bordeaux. It was the central point for other camps farther away
and soon grew into a village of several hundred people and had
many conveniences in comparison with the usual camp.
Life in a logging camp was not much fun. The work was hard and
dangerous, the lodgings often cramped, smelly, and, during much of
the year, wet and chilly. It was lonely to be away from family and
friends during the week. By the standards of the day, the pay was
good, and it was possible to save money. The food was good, too—it
had to be, or the loggers would leave and find another employer. In
the early years, the cooks were men, often Chinese. In later years
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women often managed the dining room.
Bill Johnson tells how "after a day of hard work in rain a n d sharp w i n d,
m a n y m e n r e t u r n e d to their lodgings looking for the artificial warmth of
alcohol. Peddlers hiked into the camps with small bottles of whiskey. One
brand was called Dalaman ( M a n from Dalarna or D a l e c a r l i a n ) , a label no
doubt meant to support the idea that it was j u s t the right thing for a t o u g h ,
h a r d d r i n k i n g Swede (or F i n n ) . O n the first visit, bottles were g i v e n away.
T h e n e x t time, the peddlers would bring big bottles and sell them. M a n y
m e n did a lot of d r i n k i n g to d u l l their senses to the difficult e n v i r o n m e n t in
which they lived. Some men d r a n k too m u c h , but most were aware of the
dangers of overdoing it while working.
A l s o , fellow workers had a c u r i o u s l y m i x e d sense of honesty. A m a n
could leave his watch and purse on his b u n k bed, and it would be t h e re
w h e n he came back. But if he left a bottle of whiskey, he could expect it to
be gone if he was late in c o m i n g back!14
Steam Donkey
The bosses in the logging camps, saw mills, and other work places
were not too concerned about the drinking, as long as the job was
done. With the steady flow of newcomers, there were always enough
workers. If someone was hurt, he was put the side of the job site and
the work continued. If he was still alive at the end of the day, then
16
some concern was shown, and he was brought to town to the doctor.
If he was dead, he was brought down to be buried.
The dangers of logging made for many familiar stories, related in
printed material, as well as told by old timers. There were many
people, young and old, who were missing fingers, or a hand or an
arm, or who had problems with one or both legs. Work at the shake
mills, where blocks of cedar were cut into shingles, was particularly
hazardous for fingers and hands.
Spar Tree—part of the "air lift" of logs from valleys and across streams.
When a t r e e was felled, the top with its branches was cut off a n d the
bark removed. That made it easier to move the log from where it had fallen
to a c e n t r a l place. This was first done with oxen or horses. Later, steam
engines, (called donkeys—originally a joke) would reel in the logs with a
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cable w o u n d a r o u n d a d r u m . These were faster than animals or m e n , a nd
they did not get tired. A steam donkey would be p u t i n the middle of an
area to be clear cut, a n d the cable could p u l l in the logs from as far away as
a third of a m i l e . Great caution had to be used, but even so, accidents did
h a p p e n . A cable might snap, and if it hit a person it could sever arms or
legs, a n d even kill. Sadly, accidents were frequent.
Trees on steep hills or across a deep creek could be more difficult and
d a n g e r o u s to c u t than those o n the plains or level g r o u n d . They could not
be moved by animals. Instead, lines were rigged from a steam donkey u p to
a "spar tree," which had the limbs cut off, a n d connected with another tree
down the hill or across the valley or anchored to a s t u m p or a block on the
g r o u n d . This was called the "high lead system of logging," and it made it
possible to "air lift" one or several trees ("a t u r n of l o g s " ) at the same time
to a loading spot. A s logging equipment developed, two donkeys were used.
T h e "yarding" donkey pulled logs to the spar tree where a loader donkey
picked them u p a n d p u t them o n the railroad car.15
A maintenance crew on a section of the Burlington-Northern RR
from Chehalis to Grays Harbor, west of Rochester, c. 1920.
In the old country, logs were moved to the rivers in the winter, on
the snow or the frozen land. To move them on soft soil was too hard.
Here, to move the logs from the central collection point at the side of
the donkey to the water, the loggers built wooden skids of discarded
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pieces of wood, wide enough to hold a log. The skids were greased
with very foul smelling oil from dog fish.
Logs were floated down a creek to where a dam had been built,
creating a small lake for storage until the time when the logs would
be used. The dam also created a water fall, which provided power for
a saw. In the earlier days there were many small mills. Logging close
to the rivers made it possible to float the logs to larger mills, which
increased in importance when local railroads were built.
In 1908, the Union Pacific and the Milwaukee railroads started a
line through Independence to Centralia. The two roads separated at
Helsing Junction.16 Spurs also were built to the mouth of the Chehalis
River at Grays Harbor, which permitted much more effective
transportation than on the river and increased the output of the large
saw mills at Aberdeen and Hoquiam. Now railroads were also built
into logging areas in the forests and the saw mills. Steam donkeys at
the loading stations put the logs on the flat cars, considerably
increasing effectiveness. Still later, the development of trucks and the
building of logging roads into the forests and highways between
towns led to a new pattern of forest product transportation.
Bill Johnson, as a land surveyor, has professional reasons to s t u d y and
preserve old maps and a c c o u n t s of legal o w n e r s h i p , A s a f a r m e r in Rochester
a n d a d e s c e n d a n t of i m m i g r a n t s , he also has personal reasons to do so. I n
1 8 8 8 , his grandfather moved to Wisconsin from Larsmo, F i n l a n d . A b o ut
1 9 0 2 , he came to the Gate City area. H e worked at first as a logger and
railroader, then acquired a f a r m . I n later years he liked to tell his g r a n d c h i l ­d
r e n about those days in the forests and about breaking up s t u m p l a n d.
Bill has kept things from the olden days, such as s p r i n g b o a r d s , and
showed them to the author and explained how they w e r e (and still are) used.
Bill's son stood on one when he worked as a logger in the s u m m e r of 1 9 97
a n d c u t down some very big old trees, i n c l u d i n g one that was 13 feet, 10
inches in diameter.
When he showed his mother the 90 year old springboard that his
grandfather had used, she said to her son: Why do y o u save those old
t h i n g s ? T h e y a r e n o t h i n g to have! We have much better things now! This
fits with what she a n d m a n y others had said: D o n ' t talk to me about the
good old days! There w e r e n ' t a n y ! When Bill asked, "Why did you work so
h a r d ? What was the m e a n i n g with your life?" She a n s w e r e d , "So you
c h i l d r e n would have it better than we did. "17
In the earlier days there were many small mills that took care of
the local needs and also offered employment opportunities. Various
timber products were in great demand. Rough lumber was cut up
19
and used for walkways, and even for roads. The big logs, with their
rounded surfaces, made for bumpy surfaces ("corduroy roads"), but
they were better than being stuck in the mud. The building of the
railroads also required heavy timbers. With so many new settlers,
many homes were needed. Farm buildings had to be constructed. The
towns grew quickly. Also, as people could afford them, better homes,
often much larger than those in the home land, were built.
The days of the small mills were numbered, however. As roads
improved, the trucking industry developed, and the local forests were
clear-cut, more and more of the small mills were abandoned in favor
of a small number of larger, more modem ones.
Dreams of Farms
Clearing the Land
The early immigrants dreamed of getting some land and becoming
farmers. Many of the first settlers in the Rochester area had lived in
other states, but decided to move west. They had sold what they had
and knew how to establish homesteads on Government land, which
required that they live on and improve the property for five years
before it became theirs.18 Prairie land could easily be put into
cultivation. Few of those who came directly to Washington had
enough money to buy what was necessary to establish even a very
simple homestead, build a house and barn, and get a few animals.
They had to find cash-paying jobs as loggers or mill hands, save
money, and purchase a piece of land, usually stumpland—land that
had been clear-cut and where the stumps still stood in the ground.
But such land was useless to a farmer. It was soon overgrown with
weeds and brush, particularly if it was burned after being cut. Then
the blackberry bushes grew in great abundance. Stumps left to be
broken down by the forces of nature could stand 20 to 40 years, or
more. To make the land suitable for farming, the stumps had to be
removed.
Stump removal a hundred years ago, especially stumps from the
big trees, was quite an undertaking. Bill Johnson explained how small
stumps, a foot or two in diameter, in light or sandy soil, could be
removed by hacking away the top soil with a "Swede hoe." It had the
heavy handle of an ax and a head similar to an ax, though wider and
longer, and turned like the head of a hoe. The cutting edge could be
6 inches wide and 6 inches long. It was swung like an ax and broke
up dirt, cut through smaller roots, and was then pulled toward the
20
digger, dragging dirt, rocks, and debris away from the stump. It was
an effective tool close to the surface, but a spade had to be used to
dig deeper down around the roots, which had to be cut with an ax
or a saw. Then the stump could be pulled out with the help of oxen
or a horse, and logging chains. In this way, a young farmer might
clear a n acre each year.
Stumpland
To remove big stumps in this manner took a very long time, and
other methods were needed. One was borrowed from the Indians;
fire. For centuries they had kept the plains free from trees, brush, and
weeds and replenished the prairie grasses by burning. The fire
cleared the land and left fertilizer for new growth.
Many of the new settlers used fire to prepare their land. Burning
the stumps required less work but much care. A hole was dug under
the stump and a fire was started. When it was burning well, clay was
put on top; the heat dried the clay and created a kind of oven. The
fire smoldered and gradually burnt out the stump and the roots. This
could take months. Dry summers created hazards. A fire that got out
of hand could cause great damage. Men who became skilled burners
were employed by farmers, some of whom bought newly harvested
timber land next to land they already owned.
Still another way to remove stumps was with dynamite, a method
used especially between 1920 and 1940. Dynamite was inexpensive
and readily available; it could be bought in the local hardware store.
For stumping, a hole was dug under the roots of the tree, sticks of
dynamite were put in place and ignited. The explosion would lift the
stump up and break most of the roots, which made it possible to pull
away the stump with a harnessed horse or a "stump puller."
Dynamite was effective and fast. Great care was necessary, however,
and accidents did happen. People lost fingers, arms, and other body
parts; and some were killed.
Sometimes there were f u n n y stories about s t u m p i n g . Bill Johnson
recalled how, on one occasion, his father's blasting tore up the soil, and
s u d d e n l y lots of worms were c r a w l i n g all over the place. Some chickens
happily came r u n n i n g to get their fill, while his father was busy s e t t i ng
sticks of d y n a m i t e u n d e r another stump. H e did not see the chickens u n t il
it was too late—or rather u n t i l he saw a lot of feathers f l y i n g all over and
a few wet pieces here and there. To y o u n g Bill it looked quite f u n n y , a n d he
l a u g h e d .
B u t s t u m p i n g was also v e r y d a n g e r o u s , a n d some stories were not so
f u n n y . C h i l d r e n sometimes got hold of explosives and played with them. Bill
Johnson remembers:
I was 10, m y brother 8. We had f o u n d what we thought was a box
with spent 22 caliber shells. The copper looked nice, a n d we decided,
with help of a rock, to make a necklace for M o m . H o w e v e r , what was
in the box was dynamite caps. We had been w a r n e d to stay away
f r o m them, but had not been shown what they really looked like and
how shells and caps were different. I hit the cap. It exploded. Luckily,
the rock protected me to some extent, but it blew m y hand open and
chips from the rock hit m y brother's leg. Physicians were few a nd
health care p r i m i t i v e . T o take care of o u r w o u n d s , h a n d a n d l e g w e re
soaked in hot salt water and then a salve concocted from lamp black
a n d r e s i n from a c h e r r y tree was applied. It w o r k e d . 1 9
To clear the land, it was not enough to get rid of the stumps, it
was also necessary to remove and burn the underbrush and smooth
out the land. For a man who made part of his living by working
away from the farm, it was slow and tedious work. As he started out,
he might, in his "spare time" clear an acre a year. As the years passed
and he could get more help from animals or growing children, he
might clear several acres each year. Still, it could take years before
enough stump land was cleared and turned into good pasture land,
22
or was ready for cultivation.
Farming
Most farms were small, about 20 acres, but they provided some of
life's necessities including milk, meat, eggs, vegetables, but very little
cash. Things improved as a family was able to acquire more land and
farm 30 to 40 acres, which was common. They could then have two
or more horses, eight to ten cows, and produce several calves each
year. In the early days, milk was processed on the farm, and the
cream and butter sold to the store, or exchanged for supplies. The
milk was used by the family; the skim milk was fed to the animals.
As time went by, dairies were organized—by Darigold and Bordens.
Milk was picked up twice a day; skim milk was returned. Calves
were sold or slaughtered for meat. Some pigs were raised, mostly to
be slaughtered at home, but this was not as common as raising
calves. Almost everything from an animal was used, even the blood,
which was made into blood bread and blood sausages. Some old
people have spoken fondly about these dishes, while members of
younger generations listened with astonishment or disgust. Almost
all farms had chickens and sold eggs; a few became big egg produc­ers.
Even in late spring, cows might find little vegetation on the sandy meadows. In the shallow
waters there was often much more, and they did not hesitate to graze there.
23
Farmers raised hay for the animals, and oats, barley, and wheat.
Grain could be sold, and some was taken to a mill and brought back
home for the family's needs. Potatoes grew well. A family might even
raise some around the logged stumps, while other land was cleared.
Then potatoes could be planted in rows, set and picked by hand.
There were no machines. When extra pickers were needed neighbors
might help and be paid with potatoes, which were easily stored and
provided good food for the winter.
A garden was also important, and many people planted fruit trees,
usually apples and pears. A few developed full scale orchards. In the
vegetable gardens were carrots, red beets, cabbage, kale, and
rutabagas—both for human consumption and feeding the cattle. From
the 1920s, strawberries became an important cash crop, and the wild
blackberries were picked in forests and canned.
To succeed a new immigrant farmer needed a wife and children,
who could help with the chores. The family also usually needed an
outside income. Often, the father in the household had a full time job
(often six days a week, 10 hours a day or more) and worked on the
farm mornings and nights, Sundays and holidays. Wives and children
worked hard to do all the other things that needed to be done.
A n d there was m u c h to do! M o r e than one older person has said that in
the old c o u n t r y as well as in the new one cannot talk about good old times!
T h e y d i d n ' t exist! Sylvia E r s t r o m said it slightly differently:
M y h u s b a n d worked at other jobs and took care of the farm on the
side. T h e f a r m was "our bank," which we sold when we r e t i r e d . After
all those years we had worked, and owned it, t h i n g s had changed,
a n d now we got a good price for it, so we had s o m e t h i n g to live o n . 20
A s was so typical of p i o n e e r w o m e n , she said "we" and m e n t i o n e d that her
h u s b a n d had worked at other jobs as well as o n the f a r m . B u t she did not
elaborate on all she had done, i n c l u d i n g bearing and raising the c h i l d r e n ,
while working every day from early m o r n i n g u n t i l late at n i g h t .
After World War II, with mechanization and rising costs, small
farms became increasingly unprofitable—unless they specialized, for
instance in raising strawberries or chickens. Many tired of struggling
on, particularly as they got older and the children left home, none of
them wanting to take over the farm. Old folks retired, often selling
the farm to a neighbor, who had managed to save some money and
24
wanted to continue their old way of life.
Homes
Bill Johnson's grandfather's home, c. 1910.
It was built partly of lumber from an older house on the site, and partly from new wood from
the mill just across the Black River. The little girl is Bill Johnson's mother and is standing
between her parents. The man to the left is a hired hand.
The first homes the immigrants built were made from the cheapest
lumber they could obtain. They were often built of logs, placed on
slabs of old cedar dug down in the ground for a foundation and big
enough to leave air space between the dirt and the wooden floor.
When correctly constructed such homes still survive after a hundred
years, with the cedar still in excellent shape. The boards for floors
and walls were cut in the saw mills but not planed. Many of these
rough boards were also of cedar. With age they acquired a gray
shine, and the lack of paint, inside and out, was not so noticeable.
Many homes were built in the same ways as in the old country,
with the boards straight up and down, fastened to a simple frame. A
simple, rectangular floor plan included a kitchen and living room and
sleeping area, though a small bedroom might be partitioned off.
Sometimes there were two stories or a loft big enough for an extra
room or two for beds.
25
The grandson of an immigrant told the author, "We had such a
small home at first, just 20 by 24 feet, one story." He did not know
that many of the homes that the emigrants had left often were even
smaller, no more than 13 by 22 feet.
With time and as the family's economy improved, more space was
desired, and larger and fancier homes were built. Typically, these had
two stories and horizontal clapboard siding, porches, and several
broken roof lines. In the old country this was called "the American
style." They were often painted white, a sign of the newfound
prosperity.
The Erickson Home
The history of Independence Valley shows how people managed
to build lives and communities in the early days of immigration in
this heavily wooded, hilly area. There had been a few early settlers,
but it was with the arrival of people from northern Sweden and
Finland that the population grew rapidly, and the valley filled up.
Among the settlers were people with names like Bowman, Carlson,
Erickson, Ehrstrom, Forsman, and Huhta, Hyppa, Jaska, Jylha, and
Kangas. Many of those with Swedish sounding names came earlier
and settled in the northern part of the valley, closer to the Chehalis
River and Rochester, in Thurston County. Those with Finnish names
came later and settled farther into the Valley, in Lewis County.
26
Hyppa, Julha, and Kangas have given names to roads, indicating
where the family farm was. Many of these settlers have brief
biographies in T h e H i s t o r y of Lewis C o u n t y , W a s h i n g t o n . 2 1
A m u c h longer a n d m o r e detailed story about a family and a f a r m is
D i c k E r i c k s o n ' s The Erickson Family History, which includes e x t e n s i ve
documentation, maps, and m a n y photographs. It begins with a brief review
of F i n l a n d ' s history to h e l p descendants understand their ancestors better,
a n d provide the reasons why so m a n y left a place where m a n y of their
forefathers had l i v e d — i n some cases since the 1500s.
T h e first to e m i g r a t e was Jonas E r i c k s o n , born F e b r u a r y 2 3 ,1853, and
raised on a f a r m of 32 acres, considered a fairly considerable size, called
M a a n s , Esse. H e married M a r i a L o v i s a H e n r i k s d o t t e r , born M a y 25,
1 8 5 2 , i n Ytteresse, the n e x t village, a short distance from Jakobstad. Her
p a r e n t s w e r e also f a r m e r s . A son, (Jonas) A l f r e d , was born December 1,
1877. Jonas left for the United States in 1 8 8 9 a n d worked for five years
b u i l d i n g railroads in A r i z o n a . H e saved his m o n e y a n d sent for his wife and
son in 1 8 9 5 . B y then he was l i v i n g in I n d e p e n d e n c e . Two years later, in
1897, they bought a farm of 80 acres in the n o r t h e r n part of the valley on
Independence Road (See M a p ) for $ 1 2 0 0 . T o earn extra money, Jonas drove
a team of m u l e s for the railroad, and Alfred worked in the woods. M u c h of
the original land was covered with old g r o w t h Douglas fir a n d had to be
cleared for f a r m i n g . I n the early days, u s i n g o x e n , they managed to clear one
or two acres a y e a r .
Seven of the c h i l d r e n of Jonas's two sisters and brother emigrated, and
so did members of M a r i a Lovisa's family. M a n y members of the Erickson
family lived in the three count y area, as well as in other places in Western
Washington.
Jonas, M a r i a Lovisa, and Alfred were f r u g a l and hard working. They
cleared land and g r a d u a l l y built a herd of 1 5 - 1 6 cows. There were hard
y e a r s , but also good ones, such as 1 9 2 1 - 1 9 2 9 . T h e farm prospered and g r e w.
Jonas bought some additional acreage and could expand his operation to 25
cows and several hundred chickens. I n 1 9 2 6 , he bought 80 acres of
timberland for $ 1 0 a n acre. T h e farm was one of the largest in the area.
Jonas managed money well. H e became something of the "banker" in the
area, l e n d i n g m o n e y to a n u m b e r of people, according to T h u r s t o n C o u n ty
records. N o t all loans were officially recorded. He exemplified the old p i o n e er
s p i r i t : a handshake is a m a n ' s bond. Without asking for a n y t h i n g i n w r i t i n g ,
he lent $ 5 , 0 0 0 to a close relative to b u y a f a r m . When told by a n accountant
that there o u g h t to be a legal document on the transaction, he answered that
he did not need a contract, the borrower was a n honest man.
T h o u g h their f a r m was one of the biggest in the area and it seemed that
2 7
the Ericksons had far above the common amount of assets, they did not
consider themselves well off. D u r i n g the D e p r e s s i o n , they felt they w e r e poor
like everybody else. D u r i n g one especially bad m o n t h between 1 9 2 9 - 1 9 3 1,
the milk from the 15 cows brought in o n l y $ 2 6!
The Erickson farm in the 1920s.
The old barn is between the garage (right) and the new barn. The Finn Church is in the back­ground.
To its left are the Forsman and Englung farms.
M a r i a Lovisa was a g e n t l e p e r s o n , who, at least initially, missed her
h o m e l a n d . She complained that she could not see the sky because the tops
of the trees were like an umbrella. Jonas answered that back home y o u could
not see the sky because of all the rocks, r e m i n d i n g her how diligently people
h a d worked to r e m o v e rocks from the land so that s o m e t h i n g could g r ow
t h e r e . M a r i a Lovisa also kept m a n y of the old customs, holidays, and food
preferences. Swedish was spoken at home; the c h i l d r e n learned E n g l i s h w h en
they started school.
While h o l d i n g on to old customs and v a l u e s , when it came to efficient
f a r m i n g , they kept up with the times, a c q u i r i n g m o d e r n e q u i p m e n t as it
became available. They bought their first car, a M o d e l - T F o r d , in 1 9 1 3 . The
first tractor in the area was bought in 1923 to plow a n d harrow some fields,
but there were m a n y things it c o u l d not do, a n d horses were still used for
m a n y years. I n 1 9 2 3 , they also got electric power; a telephone and a radio
28
w e r e added in 1 9 2 5 . C u r i o u s l y , Jonas could not u n d e r s t a n d how a voice
c o u l d come from a box a n d would not have a radio on in the house, but later
there was one in the cow barn that was on while the cows were being
milked.
H a r d work paid off. N e w farm b u i l d i n g s were erected, and additions were
made to the house. Like the James's home m a n y years earlier, the Erickson
h o m e served as a stopping-off point for m a n y visitors. The downstairs
bedroom off the l i v i n g room was called the "Preacher's Room." Until
churches were built and p e r m a n e n t pastors employed, itinerant preachers
often conducted religious services in private homes, i n c l u d i n g the Ericksons'.
A bedroom upstairs was called the Peddler's Room" and was often used for
salesmen who stopped by. D u r i n g the 1950s it was r e n a m e d "the Hollywood
bedroom" because of its f a n c y p a n e l i n g.
Alfred worked with his p a r e n t s on the f a r m . I n 1 9 1 2 , at age 35, he
m a r r i e d M a r g a r e t F o r s m a n , who was 2 1 . B o r n in F i n l a n d , she was adopted
by M a r i a Lovisa's brother, Alexander F o r s m a n , a n d came with h i m to
United States in 1 9 0 0 . The w e d d i n g took place in the Old Swede H a l l,
located just east of H e l s i n g J u n c t i o n and across the Chehalis River. T h ey
lived on the farm with Alfred's parents. They had six c h i l d r e n , two g i r l s a nd
f o u r boys, of whom E d w a r d , born in 1 9 1 8 , stayed on the f a r m.
Alfred expanded and modernized the farm and the home. Between 1928
a n d 1935 the chicken operation was expanded to support some 7 0 0 birds.
Water had for years come to the house through a p i p e from a s p r i n g in a
n e a r b y hill, about 100 yards away. The toilet had been in a separate little
house a short distance from the home. When the c h i l d r e n were small they
had complained about h a v i n g to go out to it in the w i n t e r . I n 1937, indoor
p l u m b i n g and toilets were installed. M i l k i n g machines were installed and
the herd increased to 25 cows in 1 9 3 8 . A silo was built in 1 9 4 5 - 4 6 , making
f e e d i n g the cattle more efficient. With 180 acres, it was one of the largest
f a r m s i n the area, and it was possible to do more things than on the typical,
m u c h smaller farm. T h e r e were one or two bulls for the herd. Cows were
brought over for b r e e d i n g from n e i g h b o r i n g farms at a charge of one dollar
per cow. Usually there would be one calf from each cow every year. F i v e or
s i x calves were kept to replenish the herd, the others would be sold. Old
cows were sold to the slaughter house. M a n y acres of h a y , oats, and fall
wheat were needed for the cattle, horses, and chickens.
After Alfred's death in 1 9 4 8 , his widow, M a r g a r e t , a n d Ed c o n t i n u e d to
take care of the f a r m , a n d Ed carried on alone after her death in 1 9 7 6 . In
1 9 7 8 , the Ericksons sold their 80 acres of timber and also the cows, but kept
the crop land. The farm was placed on the T h u r s t o n C o u n t y Historical
R e g i s t e r in 1 9 9 6 — j u s t a y e a r before its c e n t e n n i a l . A t p r e s e n t its f u t u r e is
u n c l e a r , but it may be maintained as a f a r m , mainly p r o d u c i n g h a y for
sale.2 2
29
Schools
Acculturation was a slow process. People spoke their native
language at home. Children learned English in school. Schools in the
area were constructed when there were enough people to pay for a
teacher. In the Independence area two schools were built within a
mile of each other. (Why two schools? Not because of bad feelings or
competition, but because of the distance to school for the majority of
the students.) In the south of the Valley, Independence District # 73,
a one room school was first built in 1895 and then rebuilt in 1900. It
was attended by children of mostly Finnish background. (Map, #10)
The school in Riverside District #24, about half a mile to the north of
the Erickson farm, was built in 1901 and attended by children of
generally Swede-Finn or Swedish heritage. (Map, #6) In 1912, a new
Riverside school house was erected, with two rooms and two
teachers, one teaching the four lower grades, the other the four upper
grades.23
After the turn of the century, a high school was built in Rochester,
and the small schools were gradually integrated into the Rochester
school district, which included Bordeaux, Grand Mound, and
Independence Valley. In 1930, the Northern Lights and District #73
school districts consolidated, and in 1934 they joined the Rochester
school district. With better roads and transportation, such consolida­tions
were possible. High school students in the 1920s rode in "school
buses," which were trucks, which had their beds covered with canvas.
There was a wooden bench on each side and one in the middle for
the students to sit on. They were drafty and cold in the winter, but
riding them beat walking, especially when it rained, as it usually did.
Churches
In the early years of settlement, church services were conducted
in private homes. Sunday school and services were also held in the
school houses until churches could be built. Two Evangelical
Lutheran congregations were organized in 1902, one Finnish and one
Swedish.24 Money was collected, and in 1909 each congregation built
a church. As was the case with the two schools, these were within a
mile of each other on Independence Road.
The Finnish Church could be seen from the Erickson farm, across
the road. (Map, #8) For a number of years services were conducted
in Finnish, and then changed to English. Membership dwindled. The
last confirmation class graduated in 1931. Sylvia Huhta, a daughter
30
The old Finnish Church.
of Lennart Huhta (see above), was a member of that class. She
described to the author how, as the church stood empty, vandals
broke the windows. When they were boarded up, vandals broke the
door and stole the benches, and, lastly, the bell. The building was
sold in 1969, torn down, and the lumber taken away.25
The Swedish church, dedicated in 1911, (Map #4) was located a
few hundred yards west of the Helsing Junction. Among the charter
members were Jonas, Maria Lovisa, and Alfred Erickson.26 A Ladies
Society and Sunday school were organized. Services were conducted
in Swedish, but in 1908 the language in the Sunday school was
changed to English. From 1919, the focal point of the sanctuary was
the altar painting of "The Ascending Christ," painted by Olof
Grafström. The painting was bought for $130, a sum donated "by the
Luther League ($100) and the Lydia Society ($30)."
Olof Grafström's altar painting,"The Ascending Christ." St. Mark's Church in Rochester.
"What began as a congregation primarily of Swedish-speaking
Finns became an all-English church in 1943." In 1946, a "Pastor
Peterson began working to replace the dilapidated building on the
road to Independence [because] he believed that the congregation
would survive only if it more closely identified with the community
of Rochester." In 1947, the church was torn down and a new one was
built in the middle of town. The new red brick sanctuary of Saint
Mark's Church was dedicated on May 16, 1948.27
Cemeteries
In the old country, there was a cemetery at every church. In the
new country, it took time before churches could be built, but people
32
died and had to be buried. There were a number of cemeteries i n the
Rochester area, among them the Grand Mound Cemetery, where
Jonas and Maria Lovisa Erickson were buried, and the Centralia
Cemetery, the last resting place for Margaret and Alfred Erickson.
These are cemeteries in populated areas, not difficult to visit and
keep up. Quite different is the Finn Hill Cemetery. Located three
miles south of the Erickson farm, it lies on a beautiful hillside
overlooking the land to the south, west and north, and at the end of
a narrow road that follows a small stream between hills. There are
tall trees to the east. It is a quiet, peaceful setting, far away from any
human habitation. (Map, #12) The oldest section of the cemetery was
on rather steep ground, and there is now no indication of it having
been a burial place. The other section is on a gentle slope with many
grave sites marked by head stones, for individuals and families. Few
people went there, except for a funeral, Memorial Day or other
remembrances, or when they cleaned around a plot. "There was no
special caretaker."28 A member of one of the families in the area kept
a book on plots, names, funerals, and sometimes other information,
but no "official records" were maintained. It was believed that there
was no need to put in information that everybody knew anyway,
such as when someone was born, given names, or date of death.
This lack of record keeping may have been typical of early
immigrant cemeteries, before communities became fairly well-organized.
Bill Johnson stated that in sparsely populated areas many
cemeteries were never officially recorded; the wooden crosses fell to
the ground, people moved away, the cemeteries were forgotten—un­less
something happened to bring bones to light. (This was also often
the case with Indian burial grounds.)
The first burial in the new part of the Finn Hill Cemetery,
according to the surviving records, was in 1909; the last was in 1993.
164 last names are given, the majority are typically Finnish, such as
Huhta, Jaaska, Jylha, Kangas, Niemi, Ollikala, and Sallinen. There are
also Swedish names including Anderson, Erickson, Johanson, and
some English ones, such as Bartlett and Wilson. The age at the time
of death was found for 83 persons. One fourth of them lived to ripe
old ages—from 70 to their 90s. On the other hand, almost one half
died early; 7 in their adolescent years, 7 as children, and 27 as
infants—almost all of them before WW II, attesting to the high rate
of infant mortality. Twenty of these children had no given name,
because they died before they were baptized. Although the informa­tion
is limited, what is there tells something about a few people from
the area and how life was.
After 1959, there were only a couple of burials each year at the
33
Finn Hill Cemetery. In the 1960s, young people began to use the site
for their drinking parties, and they took to vandalizing the
place—breaking down the wire fence surrounding the cemetery and
overturning head stones. "In 1970, a new wire fence and gates were
put around the cemetery. No sooner were the gates put up than the
vandals broke them down."29 Encouragingly, a couple of years ago
students from Rochester High School were asked to visit and help
clean up. They did, and an unexpected effect was that the vandalism
and other acts of disrespect ended. Many students, as they were
reading head stones, recognized the names of ancestors.30
Social Life and the Runeberg Lodge
As the population grew, people looked for ways to meet, share
interests, build a society, and to have some fun. Schools and churches
fulfilled some of these needs, but young people, in particular, wanted
less restrictive environments, especially a place where they could
relax, meet young women, dance, and drink.
Drinking as an escape or in social settings was very common.
There were many saloons in the towns. For a long time women were
not allowed in the salons, but they went to the drugstores and bought
bitters and medicines, which used spices to cover up the alcohol base.
Some women would buy and drink these—it was quite acceptable.
Similarly, my mother told me that my grandfather was very much
against drinking, but he did like to take his medicine for his
rheumatism.
Community halls were built for social organizations, such as the
farmers' granges, and they were widely used for weddings, birth­days,
community gatherings, and dances. One, in the south part of
the Independence Valley, became known as Rummy Hall, a nickname
indicating a beloved meeting place for people who wanted to
socialize and drink. (Map #11)
G u s Bowman tells about the people at one hall's N e w Years E ve
celebrations:
I n s i d e , 1 0 0 people were d a n c i n g ; 1 0 0 were g o i n g out to their cars,
1 0 0 w e r e in their cars, a n d 1 0 0 o n their way in to the H a l l . H e a r i n g
this story for the first time, the i n n o c e n t listener asks: what were the
1 0 0 d o i n g in the cars? A n s w e r : D r i n k i n g ! A n d the 1 0 0 g o i n g out to
the cars? They wanted a break from d a n c i n g a n d to have a d r i n k .
Y o u said it was a small hall, it did not have room for more than 100
34
people. What happened when the 1 0 0 on their way got i n ? Those
i n s i d e went to their cars!31
Drinking was a problem not only in rural area and the logging
camps, but also in the bigger towns, like Olympia, Aberdeen, and
Grays Harbor. Many were concerned about the drinking and spoke
out against it, including the pastors. People brought customs and
attitudes with them from the old country, about drinking as well as
abstinence.32 A Swedish-Finnish Temperance Association was
organized and received its charter on 12 March 1911. Volunteers built
a meeting hall at the Independence Road.33 At the same time, a
benefit organization, to help in cases of accidents, illness, and death,
developed. Neither of these groups prospered, and after lengthy
discussions it was decided to combine the two into a local lodge of
the national Runeberg Society, which had been organized in Wau¬
kegan, Illinois in 1920.34 The local lodge's charter of 7 August 1926,
stated as its purposes: "to unite persons mainly of Finland-Swede
origin, to promote educational and temperance work, to collect funds
for sickness and funeral benefits for members, and in general to
promote helpfulness and brotherhood among their countrymen."35 A
person could join as a social member or as a benefits member, the
latter paying a small monthly fee for health and life insurance, and
funeral benefits. The Temperance Association sold its building to the
Runeberg Society, which renamed it Swede Hall. The new organiza­tion
grew rapidly as many more young people joined and arranged
well attended meetings and dances.
G u s t ( m o r e commonly Gus) B o w m a n , born in 1913 a n d 8 4 years old
at the time of o u r interview, has been closely connected with the R u n e b e rg
Society and Swede H a l l for 50 y e a r s . Gus's history is somewhat different
from the stories of the James and Erickson families. His father, John E d v a rd
(called Ed) Bowman was born in Hälsingland in 1 8 7 9 ; h i s mother, Eugenia,
in M a l m b e r g e t , N o r r b o t t e n in 1 8 8 3 . They met when Ed worked on the
K i r u n a - N a r v i k railroad. Ed's mother, stepfather, and y o u n g e r brother came
to Olympia in 1 9 0 5 , a n d in 1 9 0 7 Ed decided to emigrate also. H e came on
a cattle boat from E n g l a n d , and then crossed Canada and c o n t i n u e d south
to Olympia, where he was met by his y o u n g e r brother. He a r r i v e d o n a
F r i d a y , a n d on M o n d a y he started to work in the B o r d e a u x logging camp.
H e worked hard, lived f r u g a l l y , a n d saved his money. His mother and
stepfather, who lived in Independence Valley, sold him 20 acres of forest
land, a short distance south of the Erickson farm. ( M a p , # 9 ) H e had a little
m o n e y for a down p a y m e n t , the rest was a loan. O n l y three q u a r t e r s of a n
acre was cleared land. Ed burned off the b r u s h , c u t down "small trees, " and
35
fashioned enough 1x12 inch boards with an a x e to build a house 20 x 24
feet. O n the first floor there was a l i v i n g room-bed room and k i t c h e n , a nd
o n the second floor two bed rooms. By 1 9 0 8 , he had earned enough money
to send for his wife and two d a u g h t e r s , a n d he had a place for them to l i ve
when they came.
T h e family g r e w — t w o m o r e g i r l s a n d two boys, Gus being the older. In
1 9 2 2 , a n adjacent 40 acres of s t u m p land was bought. A couple of acres
w e r e cleared each year. I n 1 9 3 8 , a Caterpillar tractor was purchased with
m o n e y borrowed from the L a n d Bank, and that made a g r e a t difference: six
acres were broken in a s i n g l e y e a r ! Workable land became available much
faster than before. What a difference it made! As the years went by they
g r a d u a l l y cleared land for a g a r d e n , for g r a z i n g , a n d for raising hay a nd
some oats. Additional animals were added; more land was cleared; more
crops raised. Barns a n d outhouses were built, enough to house a dozen
milking cows and 8 0 0 chickens.
G u s learned from early on to h e l p with the chores. At the age of 8 he
milked some of the cows before he went to school. (He went to the Swedish
school at I n d e p e n d e n c e . ) After he finished school at 16, he worked f u l l - t i me
o n the f a r m . T h e sisters got m a r r i e d . The y o u n g e r brother started to work
for a plywood company in Olympia. A capable m a n , he got into m a n a g e m e nt
a n d became an important stockholder. Gus stayed on the f a r m , a n d , as his
father aged, did more a n d m o r e of the work. H e took over the farm in 1 9 4 9,
the y e a r he m a r r i e d H e l e n , who had g r o w n u p in N o r t h Dakota and was the
d a u g h t e r of a Swedish mother and a F i n n i s h f a t h e r . 3 6 G u s a n d H e l e n had a
d a u g h t e r i n 1 9 5 0 , their o n l y child. Both mother and d a u g h t e r worked on the
f a r m , the d a u g h t e r d o i n g m a n y t h i n g s which were u s u a l l y considered chores
for a f a r m boy. She finished high school, went to college, and left to work for
a large i n s u r a n c e company. Helen died in 1987.
T o a u g m e n t h i s i n c o m e , G u s started to work part time as a d r i v e r for the
Darigold D a i r y C o m p a n y , a n d later for a feed c o m p a n y . A n outside job a nd
working the farm got to be too m u c h . T h e farm was a good i n v e s t m e n t but
did not b r i n g i n m u c h i n c o m e — s o m e t h i n g v e r y typical for the f a r m s i n the
area. I n 1 9 6 8 , G u s sold the farm in Independence Valley and built a home
o n five acres at James Road, a short distance from Rochester.
I n m y i n t e r v i e w , G u s Bowman (see above) added to the story about the
R u n e b e r g Lodge and Swede H a l l:
I n 1 9 3 5 , I j o i n e d the Lodge with 35 other y o u n g people. M e m b e r s h ip
was 140. The old b u i l d i n g down on Independence Road ( M a p # 3)
was too small, and the C h a i r m a n said, "We have to f i n d n e w g r o u nd
a n d a n e w home and m u c h more space for p a r k i n g . " T h e days of
walking or r i d i n g after a horse in a carriage on poor roads were gone.
36
T h e arrival of automobiles had made c o n s t r u c t i o n of good roads a
necessity, and distances were no l o n g e r a problem. We all went to
work. We bought two acres at A l b a n y Street in Rochester, where the
H a l l is now. It was all in b r u s h . We took it out a n d burned it. We
bought two big warehouses in M a l o n e . We all went down there, tore
down the b u i l d i n g s , got the l u m b e r out, and the guys with trucks
hauled it u p to Rochester. We also tore down the old Swede H a l l a nd
brought that l u m b e r over. I n the middle of the two acres we p u t up
a one-story building, 50 feet wide, 125 feet long. T h e main entrance
is to the n o r t h , with coatrooms and bathrooms, and then the large
open space for m e e t i n g s a n d dances. The b u i l d i n g was finished in
1 9 3 9 .
Swede Hall
G u s smiled at the memory, as he spoke about building the floor:
T h e joists for the dance floor were 5 x 2 4 inches and almost 30 feet
i n l e n g t h . That was a floor that could take care of all the people
d a n c i n g Swedish polkas, hambos, schottisches, and old time waltzes!
It w o u l d n ' t break, however hard they stomped.
A t the south end is a raised scene, and the wall that separates this
part from the kitchen and d i n i n g area. . .
Much of the work on the new hall was done by volunteers, but it
was necessary to borrow money to buy the land and finish the
building. Total cost was close to $5,000, said Gus. A n d the building
saw much use; for dances, weddings, birthday parties, concerts, the
coronation dinner with the election of a queen and attendants from
37
the High School to celebrate Swede Day, at Midsummer, with a
parade, dance around the maypole, folk dancing, and other entertain­ment.
Much work was needed to keep everything going. There were
dinners and dances to raise money, and in four years the Lodge was
free of debt. For a time the organization continued to flourish. In
1950, there were 93 benefit and 84 social members, for a total of 177.37
In the long run, the Runeberg Society met the same fate as so many
other ethnic associations: its numbers declined drastically over the
years. Its members grew old, many died; very few, if any, younger
members joined. The insurance aspects of the organization decreased
greatly in importance, as the effects of the social security laws from
the 1930s started to be felt. Fewer and fewer people were left to do
the work. Gus Bowman has been the chairman for more than forty
years. "We have now only 8 active members, not enough to even elect
Board Members to carry on regular Lodge activities. We could not
take care of the building and in 1979 we sold it for $ 25,000 to the
Grand Mound and Rochester Citizens Group." Some of the old
Runeberg Lodge members continue to serve in that organization.
Interior of Swede Hall. (Note the floor!)
For 20 years, Gus has sold tickets for dances and dinners. He still
helps set up and put away tables and chairs. Young looking elderly
38
ladies shop, bake, prepare and serve dinners, and clean up. They
show the same spirit of adventure and responsibility as earlier
generations. They work hard, build new lives, work for the communi­ty,
and enjoy the fun and happiness that young people showed at the
dances fifty years and more ago. Once a month they and people of
their own age get together and dance the old hambos, schottisches,
and waltzes on a floor that shows few signs of its age.
Summary
Almost a century ago, many immigrants came from northern
Sweden and Finland to western Washington. Some settled 20 miles
south of Puget Sound in the Rochester-Independence Valley area. The
immigrants felt at home with some aspects of life and nature, but
they found many differences as well. Many came with dreams of
taking land and establishing a farm. Only the earliest settlers got
easily cleared prairie land. Most had to settle for parcels with the
stumps still standing after the old growth timber had been cut down.
The majority of the farms were small, 20 to 40 acres, and only a few
reached 100 acres or more. Never easy, life in the early years was
especially hard. The men had to take jobs in the logging camps or
sawmills of the area to raise needed cash. Wives and children were
often left to carry the burdens of farm work. Clearing the stumps
seemed to take forever. Prosperity was hard-earned and often
fleeting.
The stories of these settlers echo the history of immigration and
settlement in earlier decades and other places. In addition to building
farms, homes, and communities, these Swedish, Finland-Swedish, and
Finnish immigrants built schools, churches, and social organizations.
They celebrated their roots and their new lives, and to this day their
descendants do the same.
Much has been written about life in the early days of this area,
and a great deal more could be. Many old timers, and some not so
old, have shared their experiences and knowledge and greatly
contributed to this article. They deserve warm thanks!
NOTES
1 Much in this article was drawn from interviews with residents and/or individuals
who have long connections with this region including Gus Bowman, Dick Erickson,
Sylvia Huhta Erstrom, Bill Johnson, and Jan Forsman Watson. Their stories are rich and
39
informative. For example, Bill Johnson described how: At the turn of the century his
grandfather bought a home on 20 acres along the Black River, an uneven piece of land
with 3,000 feet of waterfront. (Map, #2) It was 3/4 of a mile from Gate City. There was
a covered bridge over the river into town, and it was close to the Gate City Lumber
Company Mill and the hotels, saloons, and shops. The house was built about 1888,
partly of lumber from an older home on the same place, built 30 years earlier. In those
days, it was not so easy to get lumber. Whatever was available would be used. In later
years additions and changes were made to the house. His grandfather sold the place
in 1940, when he became a widower. In 1973, he bought it back. This story, as well as
many others, run through this article.
2 Thomas and Joseph gave their name to the center for the logging and milling
operations, Bordeaux, founded in 1887, which grew to a busy town of several hundred
people, with offices, stores, hotel, living quarters, and a school. After years of intensive
logging, the town declined and was finally abandoned in 1941. (Bill Johnson interview)
3 David James, "Rochester Area Historic Bus Tour," 22 June 1991, The Thurston County
Historic Commission, 10; and Ruth Kirk and Carmela Alexander, Exploring Washington's
Past. A Road Guide to History, revised edition (Seattle, WA: University of Washington
Press, 1990, 96, 97,171, 404-5, and 455.
4 Anna Ditch and Hilma Englund, A Little History of Independence Valley (Olympia, WA:
State Capitol Museum, 1976), 1.
5 David James, From Grand Mound to Scatter Creek. The Homes of Jamestown, 2nd edition
(Olympia, WA: State Capitol Historical Association, 1981).
6 Alma Nix and John Nix, The History of Lewis County, Washington (Chehalis, WA: Lewis
County Historical Society, 1985), 21.
7 K.G. Olin, Alaska, Volume 1: Ryska Tiden (Jakobstad, 1995), 241ff.
8 Anders Myhrman, "The Finland-Swedes in America," SAHQ XXXI:1 (January 1980),
16.
9 Alma Nix, biography of Lennart Huhta, 193.
1 0 Myhrman, 26.
1 1 Janet E. Rasmussen, New Land, New Lives. Scandinavian Immigrants to the Pacific
Northwest (Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, 1993).
1 2 See: Robert A. Weinstein, Grays Harbor 1883-1913 (Westford, MA: Murry Printing
Company, 1978); and David James, Grisdale. Last of the Logging Camps. A Photo Story of
Simpson Camps from 1890 to 1986 (Fairfield, WA: Mason County Historical Society and
Galleon Press, 1986).
1 3 The name "springboard" came from the springy feeling when standing on the board,
and because the fellers need to spring quickly from the board as the tree started to fall.
Fellers on springboards and loggers debarking the trees had to be strong, agile and
quick. The springboards and logs were usually slippery. As soon as they could afford
it, fellers got the kind of footwear that was needed for safety. These were leather boots
with steel caulks and spikes in the thick soles, about a quarter of an inch long. Whether
custom made or bought in a store, it was still necessary to break in the shoes by
getting them very wet and wearing them as they dried so they would fit better. It was
also very important to grease the shoes to preserve the leather and insure dry feet. Bear
grease was highly prized as one of the best boot greases available.
1 4 Bill Johnson interviews.
1 5 Bill Johnson interviews.
1 6 Ditch and Englund, 18.
1 7 Bill Johnson interviews.
1 8 Myhrman, 24.
1 9 Bill Johnson interviews.
40
2 0 Sylvia Erstrom interview.
2 1 Ditch and Englund.
2 2 Dick Erikson, The Erickson Family History. From Esse, Finland to Independence,
Washington. 500 Years of History (Federal Way, WA: Privately published, 1996).
2 3 Ditch and Englund, 8ff.
2 4 Ditch and Englund, 12ff.
2 5 Ditch and Englund.
2 6 Ablin Hilding Fogelquist, Seventy-fifth Anniversary Saint Mark's Lutheran Church,
Rochester, Washington (Rochester, WA: pamphlet for church members, 1980), 4.
2 7 Fogelquist, 5.
2 8 Ditch and Englung, 16.
2 9 Ditch and Englung.
3 0 Mrs. Jan Forsman-Watson, a third generation immigrant whose grandfather came to
the area in 1909, teaches English and Social Studies at the Rochester High School. She
is interested in the history of the area and has inspired students to study history by
helping them find out more about their ancestors in the area and their genealogies. One
of these students, Ryan C. Grant, made a study of the cemetery, recording 167 grave
sites and whatever information was available including last names, first and middle
name, dates of birth and death, family relations (wife or husband, son or daughter),
and cause of death. Copies of this interesting project are available. (Jan Forsman
Watson. The Finn Hill Cemetery, Rochester High School, 1994 and Grand Mound
Cemetery, 'Tombstone Readings," Thurston County, WA, 1995.)
3 1 Bowman interview.
3 2 F. Scott, Sweden: The Nation's History, 2nd edition (Carbondale, IL: SIU Press, 1988),
353-5 and 410.
3 3 Anders Myhrman, "A History of Swede Finns in Rochester, Washington" in The
Swedish Finn Historical Society Newsletter, Vol. 6 (1997), 41.
34 Ritual, Runebergorden, Tredje omarbetade upplagan, 1930 (Duluth, MN: Interstate
Printing Co., 1930).
3 5 C. Vern Mattson, "History of the International Order of Runeberg," The Swedish Finn
Historical Society Newsletter, Vol. 2 (1993), 47.
3 6 Gus's mother died in January 1950. Ed moved to Bucoda, where two daughters were
living. He died in 1967, at the age of 89.
3 7 Myhrman, 41.
41

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THE SWEDES A N D SWEDE-FINNS
OF THE INDEPENDENCE VALLEY (ROCHESTER),
WASHINGTON AREA
O L O V G. G A R D E B R I N G 1
The best known rural Swedish immigrant settlements are in
Minnesota, Illinois, Iowa, and, to a lesser degree, in Nebraska and
Kansas. However, many Swedes and other Scandinavians settled in
the Pacific Northwest, and the Rochester-Independence Valley area
in western Washington became an area similar to one of those very
typical Scandinavian communities "back east." At the same time,
however, this area developed in its own unique context and with its
own character.
Initial settlement of the Rochester-Independence area occurred
from the 1850s to the 1890s, and was undertaken by people from the
prairie states of the Midwest, many of whom were of English or
German descent—along with a few Swedes. Toward the end of the
1890s, however, hundreds of Swedes, Swede-Finns, and Finns came
to the region, and a unique and interesting history developed. Today,
second generation descendants of these immigrants like to tell about
the early days, and many third and later generation descendants like
to listen. This interest in the past and the wish to keep it alive are
also shown in a number of recent publications and in the many
personal and family histories, rich with illustrations, that have been
written. The Rochester High School even teaches classes in genealogi­cal
research; and students have helped restore an old cemetery deep
in a forest called "Finn Hill" and collected information about persons
buried there as well as in the Grand Mound Cemetery.
Appropriately, this history was celebrated on 13 October 1996 in
the town's "Swede Hall," in an event organized by the Thurston
County Committee for the Sesquicentennial of [Swedish] Immigration
and the local Vasa Lodge in Olympia.
The western part of Washington state is dominated by the Cascade
and Olympic mountain chains. Separating these barriers is the Puget
5
Sound Basin, an inland sea which stretches for a hundred miles from
the Strait of Juan de Fuca in the north to Olympia, the state capital,
in the south. Most of the state's population is concentrated in this
region—much of it in the cities of Everett, Seattle, Bremerton, and
Tacoma.
At the southern end of the Puget Sound lie Olympia and Thurston
county. This area is characterized by lowlands, varying in width from
a few hundred feet to three or four miles, rolling hills, deep forests,
and innumerable creeks and rivers. It is in this region, just sixteen
miles south of Olympia, that the community of Rochester is located.
Though usually referred to as a town, Rochester is actually part of a
large, unincorporated area with a population of about eight thousand.
Measuring about twelve miles east to west and about eight miles
north to south, the Rochester-Independence area is bounded by
Interstate 5 on the east, the Black Hills and Capital Forest on the
north, and the Grays Harbor County line on the west.
Of the waterways in the area, the largest is the Chehalis River,
which comes up from the south, follows the edge of the hills, passes
the Chehalis Indian Reservation and Oakville, and finally empties
into Grays Harbor on the Pacific Ocean. The river is navigable and
historically has been very important for the transport of logs to
downstream mills. Also meandering through the region are the Snake
and Black rivers and Independence Creek.
When the first immigrants started to move north from Oregon
Territory in the 1850s, they traveled a route that closely follows
today's Interstate 5 from Portland to the Puget Sound region.
Increasingly important to the region's settlement were the building
of the Northern Pacific Railroad line through Olympia to Tacoma and
Seattle and the development of large-scale logging operations in the
area including those of Thomas and Joseph Bourdeaux's Mason
County Logging Company (1885) and the Weyerhausers.2
According to one account, Rochester was originally named
Moscow by a Russian immigrant. Then, when a post office was
established there in 1890, the town was renamed Rochester by an
other settler in remembrance of his New York hometown. However,
David James states that no records verify the Moscow myth. Accord­ing
to him a Mrs. Julia C. Fleming "platted 75 blocks and filed this
site of Rochester in the Thurston County auditor's office on October
4,1890." She named it Rochester because she was born near Roches­ter,
Indiana. Thus, the founder was a she, not a Russian, not a he, and
not from New York.3
6
~ LEGEND ~
GRAND MOUND
BILL JOHNSON RESIDENCE
OLD SWEDE HALL
SWEDISH LUTHERAN CHURCH
HELSING JUNCTION
RIVERSIDE SCHOOLHOUSE
ERICKSON FARM
FINNISH LUTHERAN CHURCH
BOWMAN FARM
SCHOOLHOUSE (GRADES 1-8.)
RUMMY HALL
FINN HILL CEMETERY
Map of the Rochester, Washington area. (Courtesy of Raymond Abbott, Survey Technician
and Artist-Draftsman with Bracy & Thomas, Inc., Olympia, WA.)
7
In the forests south of the Chehalis, a hilly country with many
creeks in the bottom of the valleys, there were few roads, (mainly
used for logging), and few settlers. The exceptions lay in the area
southwest of the Helsing Junction (Map, #5), named by a Finn after
Helsinki, and the Independence Valley, along the Independence
Creek. (The latter name was given by surveyors who came to a valley
which did not have a name. It was the Fourth of July, and so they
called it Independence.4) Independence Creek has two tributaries,
Finn Creek and North Fork. The land surrounding these tributaries
is an important part of the Rochester area and has an interesting
history.
There were few people in southwestern Washington before 1850,
but with the gold rush to California many came west. The river
plains were settled first, between the 1850s and the 1890s, mostly by
people from the prairie states of Middle America. Many of these were
of English or German descent. Gradually, a few Swedes settled there
too. Some of the settlers traveled north through Oregon, partly
following the Cowlitz and Chehalis rivers to the area at Grand
Mound, named after a hill that rises about 100 feet over the very flat
landscape. (Map, #1)
A m o n g the first pioneers was Samuel James, a p r o s p e r o u s E n g l i s h m an
from Cornwall, who had emigrated to Wisconsin in 1 8 4 3 . Not satisfied with
the conditions there, he came with his wife and eight c h i l d r e n to G r a n d
M o u n d , twenty miles south of Olympia, in 1 8 5 2 . James claimed to a piece
of the p r a i r i e along the Chehalis R i v e r — a part of the grassy land along the
r i v e r that could easily be cultivated. The family prospered and g r e w , and
m a n y of the descendants stayed in the area. One of the most important
roads, from G r a n d M o u n d west to H e l s i n g J u n c t i o n , is the James R o a d .5
T h e r e were v e r y few white people in 1 8 5 2 , and the James's closest
neighbors lived f o u r miles to the n o r t h , but there were m a n y I n d i a n s in the
area. The relationship between them and the James family was good, though
a scare ran t h r o u g h the area two years later. Relations with the I n d i a n s
r e m a i n e d m i x e d a n d a n y conflicts over o w n e r s h i p in the area were settled
w h e n President Lincoln established the Chehalis I n d i a n Reservation in July
1 8 6 4 . (It was comprised of 4 , 2 2 4 acres, adjacent to the Chehalis River, in the
v i c i n i t y of Oakville in Grays H a r b o r C o u n t y . ) 6
The number of people in the area increased rapidly. In 1855, there
were 227. The soil was good and easy to plow. The river was full of
salmon. There was an abundance of raspberries, gooseberries and
currants. There was no reason for the settlers to starve. In addition,
coal was discovered, which provided an alternative to wood for
8
keeping fires going, and people were employed in the mines.
A school was started for the children, and ministers came around.
Services were held in homes. The James's home was a frequent
meeting place for local people as well as travelers, as it was located
on the most traveled route.
In the late 1890s and early 1900s, greater numbers of settlers ar­rived—
especially Swedes from Västerbotten in northern Sweden and
Swede-Finns from Österbotten in northern Finland. Generally, Finns
from other parts of the country came later. The old adage first come,
first served held true. The earliest settlers had claimed the land on the
prairie. The last ones got mostly stump land in the narrow valleys
and hills.
Most of the new immigrants also chose to settle in places where
work was available, and where they could make a living doing the
kind of work with which they were familiar. The best land was
quickly taken. The forest land had been bought up by large lumber
companies. By the 1890s what land was available was margin­al—
narrow flat areas close to the Chehalis or along creeks that might
overflow in the spring or on the slopes of the hills. Those who came
even later had to take what was left. Many of these were Finns, who
settled farther up on the hills in Independence Valley, as can be seen
from the names of the roads in the area such as Hyppa, Huhta, and
Kangas.
With the increase of people, there was a great demand for food,
clothing, tools, and for lumber to build houses and barns. There was
plenty of work in the forests, cutting and skidding, or in the local
saw mills. Water falls along the creeks provided power for the saw
mills until steam driven machines took over. Before the railroads
were built and provided faster transportation, the Chehalis was used
to float timber to the big saw mills in Aberdeen and Hoquiam.
The extent of the opportunities for immigrants is reflected in the
rapid growth of the area. Washington became a territory in 1853, and
population grew rapidly, especially after 1870.
Table I: Washington State Population: 1850-1900
1850 1,200 1880 75,000
1860 11,600 1890 357,000
1870 24,000 1900 518,000
See: United States Census reports and The World A l m a n a c a n d Book of
F a c t s (Pharos Books, 1992), 74-5.
9
Better transportation was an important element in these develop­ments,
particularly the completion of the trans-continental railroads.
The Northern Pacific reached Seattle in 1883. At the same time,
people continued to move to Washington from the south, and also
from the north, from Canada. Prior to 1889, only a few had come
from the Scandinavian countries, according to what may be deduced
from the census of that year, taken in connection with Washington
becoming a state. Unfortunately, there were as yet no precincts and
thus, no information is available specifically for Rochester and
surrounding area.
A comparison of the numbers of recorded immigrants in 1889 and
in 1910, by which time the greatest influx had taken place, are of
considerable interest, even though the census of 1889 refers to all of
Thurston county, and the one of 1910 specifically to the Rochester
precinct.
The 1889 census lists slightly more than 9,000 persons in the
county. The tally is not considered quite accurate because some
people were missed, and neighbors filled in information for others
who were not found at home when the enumerator came by.
Neighbors were asked but did not always have accurate information
about each other.
In 1889, 42 persons described themselves as immigrants from
Sweden and 9 from Finland. Of the Swedes, 34 were men. Of these
29 were between 20 and 49 years in age, 14 were married and 25
were single. No information is available about the other 3. With a
couple of exceptions, the men described themselves as laborers. 4 said
they were farmers. Of the 8 women, 6 were married.
Judging by the names of the 8 persons from Finland, they were all
Finland-Swedes. Of these the 7 men were between 20 and 35 years
old, their marital status is unclear, and they were all laborers. The
only female was 20, single, and worked as a tailor in Olympia.
O n e of the earliest i m m i g r a n t s , not i n c l u d e d a m o n g the above and
c e r t a i n l y a n exception to the stereotypes derived from the census, was a n
o u t s t a n d i n g organizer and businessman, Bror A x e l Sjöberg, born in
Kristinestad, Finland. H e emigrated to A m e r i c a i n 1 8 6 7 a n d changed his
n a m e to Seaberg. After m o v i n g to Washington in 1 8 7 9 , he started the
A b e r d e e n Packing Company a n d the A b e r d e e n C a n n e r y . H e owned fishing
boats a n d l u m b e r mills, and employed many of his c o u n t r y m e n , who earned
good money d u r i n g the five to s i x months they spent onboard ships while
f i s h i n g a n d o n the way to a n d from Alaska. He employed about 1,000 m e n .
Seaberg became a well known and highly regarded man. I n 1 8 8 9 , he was
elected to the first State Senate.7
10
Success stories like the above were, of course, encouraging to
people who were unhappy with their lives in the home land. The
census of 1889 gives only a limited picture of the population from
Sweden and Finland during the early days in the Thurston County.
It may be added that also listed are 22 from Denmark and the same
number from Norway. The number of immigrants from Finland
increased significantly when Russia's treatment of Finland turned
harsh and capricious after 1896-97. According to Anders Myhrman,
perhaps three quarters of the Finland-Swedish immigrants to the
United States came from the Österbotten.8 From one of the province's
three counties, Vaasa, 41,500 took out passports between 1893 and
1924, most of them after 1900.
The Rochester precinct covers most of the area with which we are
concerned here, but is only a small part of Thurston County.
Therefore, the increase in the number of immigrants from 1889 to
1910 is the more noteworthy. (The southern part of Independence
Valley, which is in Lewis County, had by now also been settled, but
is not included in the following.)
Of the 805 persons listed in the precinct in 1910, 256 (32%) were
"Swedes" or "Finns," but the exact origins of these settlers is often
unclear. 203 were labeled Finn-Swedes or Swede-Finns, 27 as Finns,
and 25 as Swedes. When origin is in doubt, it is tempting to assume
that Swedes and Swede-Finns have names that are easy to recognize,
and that there is no mistaking a Finnish surname. The following
story, however, reveals how following this assumption might lead to
error.
L e n n a r t H u h t a was born on 22 N o v e m b e r 1 8 8 4 , in Gamlakarleby, Vaasa,
F i n l a n d , a place with strong Swedish associations. His father was Johan
H u h t a , the mother Johanna Pietila. Lennart came to the United States in
1 9 0 6 . Because the correct F i n n i s h p r o n u n c i a t i o n of H u h t a is difficult, he
changed his n a m e to Johnson, perhaps preferring to add "son" to the
anglicized version of his father's first name. "When he moved to I n d e p e n ­dence
Valley there w e r e too m a n y people named Johnson, so he changed his
n a m e back to H u h t a . "9
To return to the above mentioned 256 persons: most of them were
young. 133 (52%) were under 20; 38% were between 20 to 49; and
only 6 persons were more than 60 years old. Many of the young men
were single; those who were married usually had large families; and
almost all of the children were born in this country. In the neighbor­ing
Grand Mound Township, with a population of 395 persons, there
were 30 Swedes, no Finland-Swedes, and only 3 Finns. Bucoda
11
Township showed only 3 Swedes; in Tenino township there were 21
Swedes and 2 Finns. These numbers support the notion that Swedes
had come to this area somewhat earlier than the majority of the
people from Österbotten, who settled farther to the West.
In general one can say that about two thirds of the immigrants
were young men, one third females. Probably very few had an
education beyond grade school. Some found work as fishermen. Most
were laborers who generally worked part of the time in the forests or
related timber industries. Some found jobs as craftsmen, carpenters,
blacksmiths, miners, or farmhands. They were also employed in
building and railroad construction.10 Some worked in the towns,
where job options were more varied. They often moved from one job
to another, depending on what was available.11 Women appear to
have had little difficulty finding work as domestics or in the boarding
houses and taverns of the growing cities of the area.
Stores in Gate City on the Burlington-Northern right-of-way, c. 1920.
The common goals for many of these immigrants were to get a
place of their own and "succeed." As will be seen in the following,
achieving these was difficult. The immigrants had little cash, and
12
most men had to take jobs to raise both start-up capital and sustain
farming efforts. In addition, making a small farm a sustainable
operation required the collective effort of a family. Often, without a
wife and children success was unlikely. In the early days of settle­ment
this last obstacle was a particularly serious problem because
there were many more men than women.
Logging
Logging provided the job and income base essential to the
development of the Rochester-Independence Valley area.
Much of western Washington was covered by forest, and big
logging companies bought up large areas of land. Around the turn of
the century, logging was the biggest business in the state, and it
provided plenty of jobs—in the camps and saw mills, in transporta­tion
and construction.
As has been seen, the majority of the immigrants from Sweden
and Finland in the region were young men, between 20 to 35 years
of age. They came from small towns and the countryside and were
used to hard work on fishing boats, farms, and in the forests. Many
were loggers. They knew how to swing an ax and pull a saw, and for
many the first job in the new country was in a logging camp.
For the immigrants from northern Sweden and western Finland,
the landscape may have reminded them of their homeland, but they
found much that was new. For example, although they recognized
some of the trees they saw, there were striking differences. In Sweden
or Finland pine and fir trees were considered big if they were a foot
in diameter and 60 feet tall. Here, the Douglas fir was the dominant
tree. Most were several feet in diameter, and some of the larger trees
could be as much as ten feet in diameter and up to 250 feet tall. As
these trees grew taller, the lower branches died and fell off, showing
the large, straight trunks, with the top branches making a canopy
against the light and a drop stopper to the rain - for a while. There
also were pine trees and huge Western red cedars. Maples were
common on low lands, and spruce and alders on wet lands. Also
very common but not as desirable was the hemlock.
The forests of the Northwest were dense, dark, and wet during
much of the year, because of all the rain. During the winter, on a few
days the thermometer might get down to zero, but temperatures were
often right around freezing. It seldom snowed, except in the moun­tains.
Logging in all its aspects has been described by many authors, in
13
words and in pictures. Photographers came around and set up their
equipment. The men were happy and proud to get pictures of
themselves doing many different kinds of work, particularly when
cutting down giant trees or standing on or beside them, showing the
tremendous dimensions. Many trees, felled and down on the ground,
were thicker than the men that stood beside them were tall.12
Two men on springboards, cutting Sitka spruce.
A newcomer might have had experience cutting down trees in his
homeland with what he learned was called a "Swede saw." It consisted of a
blade in a wood frame, about two a n d a half to three feet long. Opposite the
14
blade, over the center bar of wood and connected to the two end (or s i d e)
pieces, were wires with a t u r n b u c k l e in the middle to tighten or loosen the
blade. Here, this kind of saw was a c a r p e n t e r ' s tool. The trees of the
Northwest demanded q u i t e difference tools. Typical were the two-man saws,
6 to 8 feet long, with wide blades, deep teeth, and a h a n d l e on each end. But
even a saw that long was too short to c u t down the biggest trees. Then, two
saws were taken to the blacksmith shop—the logging camps always had one
close by—to be welded together. When the saw got hard to p u l l because of
pressure and heat, the blade was lubricated with kerosene or oil from
coal—obtained from local mines.
F e l l i n g the huge trees often required the combination of u n u s u a l ly
t e c h n i q u e s a n d e q u i p m e n t . A t the g r o u n d level the wood was e x t r e m e l y hard
a n d almost impossible to c u t t h r o u g h . Therefore, the biggest trees were c ut
down with the m e n working 6 to 7 feet above the g r o u n d , s t a n d i n g on
"springboards." These narrow platforms were made from pieces of s t r o ng
wood, about 2 inches thick, 7 to 8 inches wide, and 5 to 6 feet long. T o one
end was fastened a piece of i r o n , which had a sharp edge sticking up about
a quarter of an i n c h a n d was shaped like the heel of a shoe. This end was p ut
into a slit in the tree, the slit being c u t at a slightly downward angle, so the
board was held f i r m l y in place but still could be easily removed. It was
probably quite a shock for a n e w c o m e r to see (or t r y for the first time)
s o m e t h i n g so u n f a m i l i a r . 1 3
T h e clothes these i m m i g r a n t s brought from the old c o u n t r y were also
inadequate in the n e w s u r r o u n d i n g s . Loggers were often wet because of all
the r a i n . T h e n they learned about a v e r y tightly woven cotton that was
somewhat rain resistant. Jackets and pants made of this material were so
stiff that they could "stand" u n s u p p o r t e d when they were removed after a
day's work. They were labeled "tin p a n t s " and "tin coats," were like a suit
of a r m o r w h e n they had dried and p u t on again. To make the clothing even
m o r e water resistant, loggers rubbed paraffin on the heated gar­m
e n t s — t h e r e b y making them even stiffer.
The workers lived in camps, some of which were quite large, such
as at Bordeaux. It was the central point for other camps farther away
and soon grew into a village of several hundred people and had
many conveniences in comparison with the usual camp.
Life in a logging camp was not much fun. The work was hard and
dangerous, the lodgings often cramped, smelly, and, during much of
the year, wet and chilly. It was lonely to be away from family and
friends during the week. By the standards of the day, the pay was
good, and it was possible to save money. The food was good, too—it
had to be, or the loggers would leave and find another employer. In
the early years, the cooks were men, often Chinese. In later years
15
women often managed the dining room.
Bill Johnson tells how "after a day of hard work in rain a n d sharp w i n d,
m a n y m e n r e t u r n e d to their lodgings looking for the artificial warmth of
alcohol. Peddlers hiked into the camps with small bottles of whiskey. One
brand was called Dalaman ( M a n from Dalarna or D a l e c a r l i a n ) , a label no
doubt meant to support the idea that it was j u s t the right thing for a t o u g h ,
h a r d d r i n k i n g Swede (or F i n n ) . O n the first visit, bottles were g i v e n away.
T h e n e x t time, the peddlers would bring big bottles and sell them. M a n y
m e n did a lot of d r i n k i n g to d u l l their senses to the difficult e n v i r o n m e n t in
which they lived. Some men d r a n k too m u c h , but most were aware of the
dangers of overdoing it while working.
A l s o , fellow workers had a c u r i o u s l y m i x e d sense of honesty. A m a n
could leave his watch and purse on his b u n k bed, and it would be t h e re
w h e n he came back. But if he left a bottle of whiskey, he could expect it to
be gone if he was late in c o m i n g back!14
Steam Donkey
The bosses in the logging camps, saw mills, and other work places
were not too concerned about the drinking, as long as the job was
done. With the steady flow of newcomers, there were always enough
workers. If someone was hurt, he was put the side of the job site and
the work continued. If he was still alive at the end of the day, then
16
some concern was shown, and he was brought to town to the doctor.
If he was dead, he was brought down to be buried.
The dangers of logging made for many familiar stories, related in
printed material, as well as told by old timers. There were many
people, young and old, who were missing fingers, or a hand or an
arm, or who had problems with one or both legs. Work at the shake
mills, where blocks of cedar were cut into shingles, was particularly
hazardous for fingers and hands.
Spar Tree—part of the "air lift" of logs from valleys and across streams.
When a t r e e was felled, the top with its branches was cut off a n d the
bark removed. That made it easier to move the log from where it had fallen
to a c e n t r a l place. This was first done with oxen or horses. Later, steam
engines, (called donkeys—originally a joke) would reel in the logs with a
17
cable w o u n d a r o u n d a d r u m . These were faster than animals or m e n , a nd
they did not get tired. A steam donkey would be p u t i n the middle of an
area to be clear cut, a n d the cable could p u l l in the logs from as far away as
a third of a m i l e . Great caution had to be used, but even so, accidents did
h a p p e n . A cable might snap, and if it hit a person it could sever arms or
legs, a n d even kill. Sadly, accidents were frequent.
Trees on steep hills or across a deep creek could be more difficult and
d a n g e r o u s to c u t than those o n the plains or level g r o u n d . They could not
be moved by animals. Instead, lines were rigged from a steam donkey u p to
a "spar tree," which had the limbs cut off, a n d connected with another tree
down the hill or across the valley or anchored to a s t u m p or a block on the
g r o u n d . This was called the "high lead system of logging," and it made it
possible to "air lift" one or several trees ("a t u r n of l o g s " ) at the same time
to a loading spot. A s logging equipment developed, two donkeys were used.
T h e "yarding" donkey pulled logs to the spar tree where a loader donkey
picked them u p a n d p u t them o n the railroad car.15
A maintenance crew on a section of the Burlington-Northern RR
from Chehalis to Grays Harbor, west of Rochester, c. 1920.
In the old country, logs were moved to the rivers in the winter, on
the snow or the frozen land. To move them on soft soil was too hard.
Here, to move the logs from the central collection point at the side of
the donkey to the water, the loggers built wooden skids of discarded
18
pieces of wood, wide enough to hold a log. The skids were greased
with very foul smelling oil from dog fish.
Logs were floated down a creek to where a dam had been built,
creating a small lake for storage until the time when the logs would
be used. The dam also created a water fall, which provided power for
a saw. In the earlier days there were many small mills. Logging close
to the rivers made it possible to float the logs to larger mills, which
increased in importance when local railroads were built.
In 1908, the Union Pacific and the Milwaukee railroads started a
line through Independence to Centralia. The two roads separated at
Helsing Junction.16 Spurs also were built to the mouth of the Chehalis
River at Grays Harbor, which permitted much more effective
transportation than on the river and increased the output of the large
saw mills at Aberdeen and Hoquiam. Now railroads were also built
into logging areas in the forests and the saw mills. Steam donkeys at
the loading stations put the logs on the flat cars, considerably
increasing effectiveness. Still later, the development of trucks and the
building of logging roads into the forests and highways between
towns led to a new pattern of forest product transportation.
Bill Johnson, as a land surveyor, has professional reasons to s t u d y and
preserve old maps and a c c o u n t s of legal o w n e r s h i p , A s a f a r m e r in Rochester
a n d a d e s c e n d a n t of i m m i g r a n t s , he also has personal reasons to do so. I n
1 8 8 8 , his grandfather moved to Wisconsin from Larsmo, F i n l a n d . A b o ut
1 9 0 2 , he came to the Gate City area. H e worked at first as a logger and
railroader, then acquired a f a r m . I n later years he liked to tell his g r a n d c h i l ­d
r e n about those days in the forests and about breaking up s t u m p l a n d.
Bill has kept things from the olden days, such as s p r i n g b o a r d s , and
showed them to the author and explained how they w e r e (and still are) used.
Bill's son stood on one when he worked as a logger in the s u m m e r of 1 9 97
a n d c u t down some very big old trees, i n c l u d i n g one that was 13 feet, 10
inches in diameter.
When he showed his mother the 90 year old springboard that his
grandfather had used, she said to her son: Why do y o u save those old
t h i n g s ? T h e y a r e n o t h i n g to have! We have much better things now! This
fits with what she a n d m a n y others had said: D o n ' t talk to me about the
good old days! There w e r e n ' t a n y ! When Bill asked, "Why did you work so
h a r d ? What was the m e a n i n g with your life?" She a n s w e r e d , "So you
c h i l d r e n would have it better than we did. "17
In the earlier days there were many small mills that took care of
the local needs and also offered employment opportunities. Various
timber products were in great demand. Rough lumber was cut up
19
and used for walkways, and even for roads. The big logs, with their
rounded surfaces, made for bumpy surfaces ("corduroy roads"), but
they were better than being stuck in the mud. The building of the
railroads also required heavy timbers. With so many new settlers,
many homes were needed. Farm buildings had to be constructed. The
towns grew quickly. Also, as people could afford them, better homes,
often much larger than those in the home land, were built.
The days of the small mills were numbered, however. As roads
improved, the trucking industry developed, and the local forests were
clear-cut, more and more of the small mills were abandoned in favor
of a small number of larger, more modem ones.
Dreams of Farms
Clearing the Land
The early immigrants dreamed of getting some land and becoming
farmers. Many of the first settlers in the Rochester area had lived in
other states, but decided to move west. They had sold what they had
and knew how to establish homesteads on Government land, which
required that they live on and improve the property for five years
before it became theirs.18 Prairie land could easily be put into
cultivation. Few of those who came directly to Washington had
enough money to buy what was necessary to establish even a very
simple homestead, build a house and barn, and get a few animals.
They had to find cash-paying jobs as loggers or mill hands, save
money, and purchase a piece of land, usually stumpland—land that
had been clear-cut and where the stumps still stood in the ground.
But such land was useless to a farmer. It was soon overgrown with
weeds and brush, particularly if it was burned after being cut. Then
the blackberry bushes grew in great abundance. Stumps left to be
broken down by the forces of nature could stand 20 to 40 years, or
more. To make the land suitable for farming, the stumps had to be
removed.
Stump removal a hundred years ago, especially stumps from the
big trees, was quite an undertaking. Bill Johnson explained how small
stumps, a foot or two in diameter, in light or sandy soil, could be
removed by hacking away the top soil with a "Swede hoe." It had the
heavy handle of an ax and a head similar to an ax, though wider and
longer, and turned like the head of a hoe. The cutting edge could be
6 inches wide and 6 inches long. It was swung like an ax and broke
up dirt, cut through smaller roots, and was then pulled toward the
20
digger, dragging dirt, rocks, and debris away from the stump. It was
an effective tool close to the surface, but a spade had to be used to
dig deeper down around the roots, which had to be cut with an ax
or a saw. Then the stump could be pulled out with the help of oxen
or a horse, and logging chains. In this way, a young farmer might
clear a n acre each year.
Stumpland
To remove big stumps in this manner took a very long time, and
other methods were needed. One was borrowed from the Indians;
fire. For centuries they had kept the plains free from trees, brush, and
weeds and replenished the prairie grasses by burning. The fire
cleared the land and left fertilizer for new growth.
Many of the new settlers used fire to prepare their land. Burning
the stumps required less work but much care. A hole was dug under
the stump and a fire was started. When it was burning well, clay was
put on top; the heat dried the clay and created a kind of oven. The
fire smoldered and gradually burnt out the stump and the roots. This
could take months. Dry summers created hazards. A fire that got out
of hand could cause great damage. Men who became skilled burners
were employed by farmers, some of whom bought newly harvested
timber land next to land they already owned.
Still another way to remove stumps was with dynamite, a method
used especially between 1920 and 1940. Dynamite was inexpensive
and readily available; it could be bought in the local hardware store.
For stumping, a hole was dug under the roots of the tree, sticks of
dynamite were put in place and ignited. The explosion would lift the
stump up and break most of the roots, which made it possible to pull
away the stump with a harnessed horse or a "stump puller."
Dynamite was effective and fast. Great care was necessary, however,
and accidents did happen. People lost fingers, arms, and other body
parts; and some were killed.
Sometimes there were f u n n y stories about s t u m p i n g . Bill Johnson
recalled how, on one occasion, his father's blasting tore up the soil, and
s u d d e n l y lots of worms were c r a w l i n g all over the place. Some chickens
happily came r u n n i n g to get their fill, while his father was busy s e t t i ng
sticks of d y n a m i t e u n d e r another stump. H e did not see the chickens u n t il
it was too late—or rather u n t i l he saw a lot of feathers f l y i n g all over and
a few wet pieces here and there. To y o u n g Bill it looked quite f u n n y , a n d he
l a u g h e d .
B u t s t u m p i n g was also v e r y d a n g e r o u s , a n d some stories were not so
f u n n y . C h i l d r e n sometimes got hold of explosives and played with them. Bill
Johnson remembers:
I was 10, m y brother 8. We had f o u n d what we thought was a box
with spent 22 caliber shells. The copper looked nice, a n d we decided,
with help of a rock, to make a necklace for M o m . H o w e v e r , what was
in the box was dynamite caps. We had been w a r n e d to stay away
f r o m them, but had not been shown what they really looked like and
how shells and caps were different. I hit the cap. It exploded. Luckily,
the rock protected me to some extent, but it blew m y hand open and
chips from the rock hit m y brother's leg. Physicians were few a nd
health care p r i m i t i v e . T o take care of o u r w o u n d s , h a n d a n d l e g w e re
soaked in hot salt water and then a salve concocted from lamp black
a n d r e s i n from a c h e r r y tree was applied. It w o r k e d . 1 9
To clear the land, it was not enough to get rid of the stumps, it
was also necessary to remove and burn the underbrush and smooth
out the land. For a man who made part of his living by working
away from the farm, it was slow and tedious work. As he started out,
he might, in his "spare time" clear an acre a year. As the years passed
and he could get more help from animals or growing children, he
might clear several acres each year. Still, it could take years before
enough stump land was cleared and turned into good pasture land,
22
or was ready for cultivation.
Farming
Most farms were small, about 20 acres, but they provided some of
life's necessities including milk, meat, eggs, vegetables, but very little
cash. Things improved as a family was able to acquire more land and
farm 30 to 40 acres, which was common. They could then have two
or more horses, eight to ten cows, and produce several calves each
year. In the early days, milk was processed on the farm, and the
cream and butter sold to the store, or exchanged for supplies. The
milk was used by the family; the skim milk was fed to the animals.
As time went by, dairies were organized—by Darigold and Bordens.
Milk was picked up twice a day; skim milk was returned. Calves
were sold or slaughtered for meat. Some pigs were raised, mostly to
be slaughtered at home, but this was not as common as raising
calves. Almost everything from an animal was used, even the blood,
which was made into blood bread and blood sausages. Some old
people have spoken fondly about these dishes, while members of
younger generations listened with astonishment or disgust. Almost
all farms had chickens and sold eggs; a few became big egg produc­ers.
Even in late spring, cows might find little vegetation on the sandy meadows. In the shallow
waters there was often much more, and they did not hesitate to graze there.
23
Farmers raised hay for the animals, and oats, barley, and wheat.
Grain could be sold, and some was taken to a mill and brought back
home for the family's needs. Potatoes grew well. A family might even
raise some around the logged stumps, while other land was cleared.
Then potatoes could be planted in rows, set and picked by hand.
There were no machines. When extra pickers were needed neighbors
might help and be paid with potatoes, which were easily stored and
provided good food for the winter.
A garden was also important, and many people planted fruit trees,
usually apples and pears. A few developed full scale orchards. In the
vegetable gardens were carrots, red beets, cabbage, kale, and
rutabagas—both for human consumption and feeding the cattle. From
the 1920s, strawberries became an important cash crop, and the wild
blackberries were picked in forests and canned.
To succeed a new immigrant farmer needed a wife and children,
who could help with the chores. The family also usually needed an
outside income. Often, the father in the household had a full time job
(often six days a week, 10 hours a day or more) and worked on the
farm mornings and nights, Sundays and holidays. Wives and children
worked hard to do all the other things that needed to be done.
A n d there was m u c h to do! M o r e than one older person has said that in
the old c o u n t r y as well as in the new one cannot talk about good old times!
T h e y d i d n ' t exist! Sylvia E r s t r o m said it slightly differently:
M y h u s b a n d worked at other jobs and took care of the farm on the
side. T h e f a r m was "our bank," which we sold when we r e t i r e d . After
all those years we had worked, and owned it, t h i n g s had changed,
a n d now we got a good price for it, so we had s o m e t h i n g to live o n . 20
A s was so typical of p i o n e e r w o m e n , she said "we" and m e n t i o n e d that her
h u s b a n d had worked at other jobs as well as o n the f a r m . B u t she did not
elaborate on all she had done, i n c l u d i n g bearing and raising the c h i l d r e n ,
while working every day from early m o r n i n g u n t i l late at n i g h t .
After World War II, with mechanization and rising costs, small
farms became increasingly unprofitable—unless they specialized, for
instance in raising strawberries or chickens. Many tired of struggling
on, particularly as they got older and the children left home, none of
them wanting to take over the farm. Old folks retired, often selling
the farm to a neighbor, who had managed to save some money and
24
wanted to continue their old way of life.
Homes
Bill Johnson's grandfather's home, c. 1910.
It was built partly of lumber from an older house on the site, and partly from new wood from
the mill just across the Black River. The little girl is Bill Johnson's mother and is standing
between her parents. The man to the left is a hired hand.
The first homes the immigrants built were made from the cheapest
lumber they could obtain. They were often built of logs, placed on
slabs of old cedar dug down in the ground for a foundation and big
enough to leave air space between the dirt and the wooden floor.
When correctly constructed such homes still survive after a hundred
years, with the cedar still in excellent shape. The boards for floors
and walls were cut in the saw mills but not planed. Many of these
rough boards were also of cedar. With age they acquired a gray
shine, and the lack of paint, inside and out, was not so noticeable.
Many homes were built in the same ways as in the old country,
with the boards straight up and down, fastened to a simple frame. A
simple, rectangular floor plan included a kitchen and living room and
sleeping area, though a small bedroom might be partitioned off.
Sometimes there were two stories or a loft big enough for an extra
room or two for beds.
25
The grandson of an immigrant told the author, "We had such a
small home at first, just 20 by 24 feet, one story." He did not know
that many of the homes that the emigrants had left often were even
smaller, no more than 13 by 22 feet.
With time and as the family's economy improved, more space was
desired, and larger and fancier homes were built. Typically, these had
two stories and horizontal clapboard siding, porches, and several
broken roof lines. In the old country this was called "the American
style." They were often painted white, a sign of the newfound
prosperity.
The Erickson Home
The history of Independence Valley shows how people managed
to build lives and communities in the early days of immigration in
this heavily wooded, hilly area. There had been a few early settlers,
but it was with the arrival of people from northern Sweden and
Finland that the population grew rapidly, and the valley filled up.
Among the settlers were people with names like Bowman, Carlson,
Erickson, Ehrstrom, Forsman, and Huhta, Hyppa, Jaska, Jylha, and
Kangas. Many of those with Swedish sounding names came earlier
and settled in the northern part of the valley, closer to the Chehalis
River and Rochester, in Thurston County. Those with Finnish names
came later and settled farther into the Valley, in Lewis County.
26
Hyppa, Julha, and Kangas have given names to roads, indicating
where the family farm was. Many of these settlers have brief
biographies in T h e H i s t o r y of Lewis C o u n t y , W a s h i n g t o n . 2 1
A m u c h longer a n d m o r e detailed story about a family and a f a r m is
D i c k E r i c k s o n ' s The Erickson Family History, which includes e x t e n s i ve
documentation, maps, and m a n y photographs. It begins with a brief review
of F i n l a n d ' s history to h e l p descendants understand their ancestors better,
a n d provide the reasons why so m a n y left a place where m a n y of their
forefathers had l i v e d — i n some cases since the 1500s.
T h e first to e m i g r a t e was Jonas E r i c k s o n , born F e b r u a r y 2 3 ,1853, and
raised on a f a r m of 32 acres, considered a fairly considerable size, called
M a a n s , Esse. H e married M a r i a L o v i s a H e n r i k s d o t t e r , born M a y 25,
1 8 5 2 , i n Ytteresse, the n e x t village, a short distance from Jakobstad. Her
p a r e n t s w e r e also f a r m e r s . A son, (Jonas) A l f r e d , was born December 1,
1877. Jonas left for the United States in 1 8 8 9 a n d worked for five years
b u i l d i n g railroads in A r i z o n a . H e saved his m o n e y a n d sent for his wife and
son in 1 8 9 5 . B y then he was l i v i n g in I n d e p e n d e n c e . Two years later, in
1897, they bought a farm of 80 acres in the n o r t h e r n part of the valley on
Independence Road (See M a p ) for $ 1 2 0 0 . T o earn extra money, Jonas drove
a team of m u l e s for the railroad, and Alfred worked in the woods. M u c h of
the original land was covered with old g r o w t h Douglas fir a n d had to be
cleared for f a r m i n g . I n the early days, u s i n g o x e n , they managed to clear one
or two acres a y e a r .
Seven of the c h i l d r e n of Jonas's two sisters and brother emigrated, and
so did members of M a r i a Lovisa's family. M a n y members of the Erickson
family lived in the three count y area, as well as in other places in Western
Washington.
Jonas, M a r i a Lovisa, and Alfred were f r u g a l and hard working. They
cleared land and g r a d u a l l y built a herd of 1 5 - 1 6 cows. There were hard
y e a r s , but also good ones, such as 1 9 2 1 - 1 9 2 9 . T h e farm prospered and g r e w.
Jonas bought some additional acreage and could expand his operation to 25
cows and several hundred chickens. I n 1 9 2 6 , he bought 80 acres of
timberland for $ 1 0 a n acre. T h e farm was one of the largest in the area.
Jonas managed money well. H e became something of the "banker" in the
area, l e n d i n g m o n e y to a n u m b e r of people, according to T h u r s t o n C o u n ty
records. N o t all loans were officially recorded. He exemplified the old p i o n e er
s p i r i t : a handshake is a m a n ' s bond. Without asking for a n y t h i n g i n w r i t i n g ,
he lent $ 5 , 0 0 0 to a close relative to b u y a f a r m . When told by a n accountant
that there o u g h t to be a legal document on the transaction, he answered that
he did not need a contract, the borrower was a n honest man.
T h o u g h their f a r m was one of the biggest in the area and it seemed that
2 7
the Ericksons had far above the common amount of assets, they did not
consider themselves well off. D u r i n g the D e p r e s s i o n , they felt they w e r e poor
like everybody else. D u r i n g one especially bad m o n t h between 1 9 2 9 - 1 9 3 1,
the milk from the 15 cows brought in o n l y $ 2 6!
The Erickson farm in the 1920s.
The old barn is between the garage (right) and the new barn. The Finn Church is in the back­ground.
To its left are the Forsman and Englung farms.
M a r i a Lovisa was a g e n t l e p e r s o n , who, at least initially, missed her
h o m e l a n d . She complained that she could not see the sky because the tops
of the trees were like an umbrella. Jonas answered that back home y o u could
not see the sky because of all the rocks, r e m i n d i n g her how diligently people
h a d worked to r e m o v e rocks from the land so that s o m e t h i n g could g r ow
t h e r e . M a r i a Lovisa also kept m a n y of the old customs, holidays, and food
preferences. Swedish was spoken at home; the c h i l d r e n learned E n g l i s h w h en
they started school.
While h o l d i n g on to old customs and v a l u e s , when it came to efficient
f a r m i n g , they kept up with the times, a c q u i r i n g m o d e r n e q u i p m e n t as it
became available. They bought their first car, a M o d e l - T F o r d , in 1 9 1 3 . The
first tractor in the area was bought in 1923 to plow a n d harrow some fields,
but there were m a n y things it c o u l d not do, a n d horses were still used for
m a n y years. I n 1 9 2 3 , they also got electric power; a telephone and a radio
28
w e r e added in 1 9 2 5 . C u r i o u s l y , Jonas could not u n d e r s t a n d how a voice
c o u l d come from a box a n d would not have a radio on in the house, but later
there was one in the cow barn that was on while the cows were being
milked.
H a r d work paid off. N e w farm b u i l d i n g s were erected, and additions were
made to the house. Like the James's home m a n y years earlier, the Erickson
h o m e served as a stopping-off point for m a n y visitors. The downstairs
bedroom off the l i v i n g room was called the "Preacher's Room." Until
churches were built and p e r m a n e n t pastors employed, itinerant preachers
often conducted religious services in private homes, i n c l u d i n g the Ericksons'.
A bedroom upstairs was called the Peddler's Room" and was often used for
salesmen who stopped by. D u r i n g the 1950s it was r e n a m e d "the Hollywood
bedroom" because of its f a n c y p a n e l i n g.
Alfred worked with his p a r e n t s on the f a r m . I n 1 9 1 2 , at age 35, he
m a r r i e d M a r g a r e t F o r s m a n , who was 2 1 . B o r n in F i n l a n d , she was adopted
by M a r i a Lovisa's brother, Alexander F o r s m a n , a n d came with h i m to
United States in 1 9 0 0 . The w e d d i n g took place in the Old Swede H a l l,
located just east of H e l s i n g J u n c t i o n and across the Chehalis River. T h ey
lived on the farm with Alfred's parents. They had six c h i l d r e n , two g i r l s a nd
f o u r boys, of whom E d w a r d , born in 1 9 1 8 , stayed on the f a r m.
Alfred expanded and modernized the farm and the home. Between 1928
a n d 1935 the chicken operation was expanded to support some 7 0 0 birds.
Water had for years come to the house through a p i p e from a s p r i n g in a
n e a r b y hill, about 100 yards away. The toilet had been in a separate little
house a short distance from the home. When the c h i l d r e n were small they
had complained about h a v i n g to go out to it in the w i n t e r . I n 1937, indoor
p l u m b i n g and toilets were installed. M i l k i n g machines were installed and
the herd increased to 25 cows in 1 9 3 8 . A silo was built in 1 9 4 5 - 4 6 , making
f e e d i n g the cattle more efficient. With 180 acres, it was one of the largest
f a r m s i n the area, and it was possible to do more things than on the typical,
m u c h smaller farm. T h e r e were one or two bulls for the herd. Cows were
brought over for b r e e d i n g from n e i g h b o r i n g farms at a charge of one dollar
per cow. Usually there would be one calf from each cow every year. F i v e or
s i x calves were kept to replenish the herd, the others would be sold. Old
cows were sold to the slaughter house. M a n y acres of h a y , oats, and fall
wheat were needed for the cattle, horses, and chickens.
After Alfred's death in 1 9 4 8 , his widow, M a r g a r e t , a n d Ed c o n t i n u e d to
take care of the f a r m , a n d Ed carried on alone after her death in 1 9 7 6 . In
1 9 7 8 , the Ericksons sold their 80 acres of timber and also the cows, but kept
the crop land. The farm was placed on the T h u r s t o n C o u n t y Historical
R e g i s t e r in 1 9 9 6 — j u s t a y e a r before its c e n t e n n i a l . A t p r e s e n t its f u t u r e is
u n c l e a r , but it may be maintained as a f a r m , mainly p r o d u c i n g h a y for
sale.2 2
29
Schools
Acculturation was a slow process. People spoke their native
language at home. Children learned English in school. Schools in the
area were constructed when there were enough people to pay for a
teacher. In the Independence area two schools were built within a
mile of each other. (Why two schools? Not because of bad feelings or
competition, but because of the distance to school for the majority of
the students.) In the south of the Valley, Independence District # 73,
a one room school was first built in 1895 and then rebuilt in 1900. It
was attended by children of mostly Finnish background. (Map, #10)
The school in Riverside District #24, about half a mile to the north of
the Erickson farm, was built in 1901 and attended by children of
generally Swede-Finn or Swedish heritage. (Map, #6) In 1912, a new
Riverside school house was erected, with two rooms and two
teachers, one teaching the four lower grades, the other the four upper
grades.23
After the turn of the century, a high school was built in Rochester,
and the small schools were gradually integrated into the Rochester
school district, which included Bordeaux, Grand Mound, and
Independence Valley. In 1930, the Northern Lights and District #73
school districts consolidated, and in 1934 they joined the Rochester
school district. With better roads and transportation, such consolida­tions
were possible. High school students in the 1920s rode in "school
buses," which were trucks, which had their beds covered with canvas.
There was a wooden bench on each side and one in the middle for
the students to sit on. They were drafty and cold in the winter, but
riding them beat walking, especially when it rained, as it usually did.
Churches
In the early years of settlement, church services were conducted
in private homes. Sunday school and services were also held in the
school houses until churches could be built. Two Evangelical
Lutheran congregations were organized in 1902, one Finnish and one
Swedish.24 Money was collected, and in 1909 each congregation built
a church. As was the case with the two schools, these were within a
mile of each other on Independence Road.
The Finnish Church could be seen from the Erickson farm, across
the road. (Map, #8) For a number of years services were conducted
in Finnish, and then changed to English. Membership dwindled. The
last confirmation class graduated in 1931. Sylvia Huhta, a daughter
30
The old Finnish Church.
of Lennart Huhta (see above), was a member of that class. She
described to the author how, as the church stood empty, vandals
broke the windows. When they were boarded up, vandals broke the
door and stole the benches, and, lastly, the bell. The building was
sold in 1969, torn down, and the lumber taken away.25
The Swedish church, dedicated in 1911, (Map #4) was located a
few hundred yards west of the Helsing Junction. Among the charter
members were Jonas, Maria Lovisa, and Alfred Erickson.26 A Ladies
Society and Sunday school were organized. Services were conducted
in Swedish, but in 1908 the language in the Sunday school was
changed to English. From 1919, the focal point of the sanctuary was
the altar painting of "The Ascending Christ," painted by Olof
Grafström. The painting was bought for $130, a sum donated "by the
Luther League ($100) and the Lydia Society ($30)."
Olof Grafström's altar painting,"The Ascending Christ." St. Mark's Church in Rochester.
"What began as a congregation primarily of Swedish-speaking
Finns became an all-English church in 1943." In 1946, a "Pastor
Peterson began working to replace the dilapidated building on the
road to Independence [because] he believed that the congregation
would survive only if it more closely identified with the community
of Rochester." In 1947, the church was torn down and a new one was
built in the middle of town. The new red brick sanctuary of Saint
Mark's Church was dedicated on May 16, 1948.27
Cemeteries
In the old country, there was a cemetery at every church. In the
new country, it took time before churches could be built, but people
32
died and had to be buried. There were a number of cemeteries i n the
Rochester area, among them the Grand Mound Cemetery, where
Jonas and Maria Lovisa Erickson were buried, and the Centralia
Cemetery, the last resting place for Margaret and Alfred Erickson.
These are cemeteries in populated areas, not difficult to visit and
keep up. Quite different is the Finn Hill Cemetery. Located three
miles south of the Erickson farm, it lies on a beautiful hillside
overlooking the land to the south, west and north, and at the end of
a narrow road that follows a small stream between hills. There are
tall trees to the east. It is a quiet, peaceful setting, far away from any
human habitation. (Map, #12) The oldest section of the cemetery was
on rather steep ground, and there is now no indication of it having
been a burial place. The other section is on a gentle slope with many
grave sites marked by head stones, for individuals and families. Few
people went there, except for a funeral, Memorial Day or other
remembrances, or when they cleaned around a plot. "There was no
special caretaker."28 A member of one of the families in the area kept
a book on plots, names, funerals, and sometimes other information,
but no "official records" were maintained. It was believed that there
was no need to put in information that everybody knew anyway,
such as when someone was born, given names, or date of death.
This lack of record keeping may have been typical of early
immigrant cemeteries, before communities became fairly well-organized.
Bill Johnson stated that in sparsely populated areas many
cemeteries were never officially recorded; the wooden crosses fell to
the ground, people moved away, the cemeteries were forgotten—un­less
something happened to bring bones to light. (This was also often
the case with Indian burial grounds.)
The first burial in the new part of the Finn Hill Cemetery,
according to the surviving records, was in 1909; the last was in 1993.
164 last names are given, the majority are typically Finnish, such as
Huhta, Jaaska, Jylha, Kangas, Niemi, Ollikala, and Sallinen. There are
also Swedish names including Anderson, Erickson, Johanson, and
some English ones, such as Bartlett and Wilson. The age at the time
of death was found for 83 persons. One fourth of them lived to ripe
old ages—from 70 to their 90s. On the other hand, almost one half
died early; 7 in their adolescent years, 7 as children, and 27 as
infants—almost all of them before WW II, attesting to the high rate
of infant mortality. Twenty of these children had no given name,
because they died before they were baptized. Although the informa­tion
is limited, what is there tells something about a few people from
the area and how life was.
After 1959, there were only a couple of burials each year at the
33
Finn Hill Cemetery. In the 1960s, young people began to use the site
for their drinking parties, and they took to vandalizing the
place—breaking down the wire fence surrounding the cemetery and
overturning head stones. "In 1970, a new wire fence and gates were
put around the cemetery. No sooner were the gates put up than the
vandals broke them down."29 Encouragingly, a couple of years ago
students from Rochester High School were asked to visit and help
clean up. They did, and an unexpected effect was that the vandalism
and other acts of disrespect ended. Many students, as they were
reading head stones, recognized the names of ancestors.30
Social Life and the Runeberg Lodge
As the population grew, people looked for ways to meet, share
interests, build a society, and to have some fun. Schools and churches
fulfilled some of these needs, but young people, in particular, wanted
less restrictive environments, especially a place where they could
relax, meet young women, dance, and drink.
Drinking as an escape or in social settings was very common.
There were many saloons in the towns. For a long time women were
not allowed in the salons, but they went to the drugstores and bought
bitters and medicines, which used spices to cover up the alcohol base.
Some women would buy and drink these—it was quite acceptable.
Similarly, my mother told me that my grandfather was very much
against drinking, but he did like to take his medicine for his
rheumatism.
Community halls were built for social organizations, such as the
farmers' granges, and they were widely used for weddings, birth­days,
community gatherings, and dances. One, in the south part of
the Independence Valley, became known as Rummy Hall, a nickname
indicating a beloved meeting place for people who wanted to
socialize and drink. (Map #11)
G u s Bowman tells about the people at one hall's N e w Years E ve
celebrations:
I n s i d e , 1 0 0 people were d a n c i n g ; 1 0 0 were g o i n g out to their cars,
1 0 0 w e r e in their cars, a n d 1 0 0 o n their way in to the H a l l . H e a r i n g
this story for the first time, the i n n o c e n t listener asks: what were the
1 0 0 d o i n g in the cars? A n s w e r : D r i n k i n g ! A n d the 1 0 0 g o i n g out to
the cars? They wanted a break from d a n c i n g a n d to have a d r i n k .
Y o u said it was a small hall, it did not have room for more than 100
34
people. What happened when the 1 0 0 on their way got i n ? Those
i n s i d e went to their cars!31
Drinking was a problem not only in rural area and the logging
camps, but also in the bigger towns, like Olympia, Aberdeen, and
Grays Harbor. Many were concerned about the drinking and spoke
out against it, including the pastors. People brought customs and
attitudes with them from the old country, about drinking as well as
abstinence.32 A Swedish-Finnish Temperance Association was
organized and received its charter on 12 March 1911. Volunteers built
a meeting hall at the Independence Road.33 At the same time, a
benefit organization, to help in cases of accidents, illness, and death,
developed. Neither of these groups prospered, and after lengthy
discussions it was decided to combine the two into a local lodge of
the national Runeberg Society, which had been organized in Wau¬
kegan, Illinois in 1920.34 The local lodge's charter of 7 August 1926,
stated as its purposes: "to unite persons mainly of Finland-Swede
origin, to promote educational and temperance work, to collect funds
for sickness and funeral benefits for members, and in general to
promote helpfulness and brotherhood among their countrymen."35 A
person could join as a social member or as a benefits member, the
latter paying a small monthly fee for health and life insurance, and
funeral benefits. The Temperance Association sold its building to the
Runeberg Society, which renamed it Swede Hall. The new organiza­tion
grew rapidly as many more young people joined and arranged
well attended meetings and dances.
G u s t ( m o r e commonly Gus) B o w m a n , born in 1913 a n d 8 4 years old
at the time of o u r interview, has been closely connected with the R u n e b e rg
Society and Swede H a l l for 50 y e a r s . Gus's history is somewhat different
from the stories of the James and Erickson families. His father, John E d v a rd
(called Ed) Bowman was born in Hälsingland in 1 8 7 9 ; h i s mother, Eugenia,
in M a l m b e r g e t , N o r r b o t t e n in 1 8 8 3 . They met when Ed worked on the
K i r u n a - N a r v i k railroad. Ed's mother, stepfather, and y o u n g e r brother came
to Olympia in 1 9 0 5 , a n d in 1 9 0 7 Ed decided to emigrate also. H e came on
a cattle boat from E n g l a n d , and then crossed Canada and c o n t i n u e d south
to Olympia, where he was met by his y o u n g e r brother. He a r r i v e d o n a
F r i d a y , a n d on M o n d a y he started to work in the B o r d e a u x logging camp.
H e worked hard, lived f r u g a l l y , a n d saved his money. His mother and
stepfather, who lived in Independence Valley, sold him 20 acres of forest
land, a short distance south of the Erickson farm. ( M a p , # 9 ) H e had a little
m o n e y for a down p a y m e n t , the rest was a loan. O n l y three q u a r t e r s of a n
acre was cleared land. Ed burned off the b r u s h , c u t down "small trees, " and
35
fashioned enough 1x12 inch boards with an a x e to build a house 20 x 24
feet. O n the first floor there was a l i v i n g room-bed room and k i t c h e n , a nd
o n the second floor two bed rooms. By 1 9 0 8 , he had earned enough money
to send for his wife and two d a u g h t e r s , a n d he had a place for them to l i ve
when they came.
T h e family g r e w — t w o m o r e g i r l s a n d two boys, Gus being the older. In
1 9 2 2 , a n adjacent 40 acres of s t u m p land was bought. A couple of acres
w e r e cleared each year. I n 1 9 3 8 , a Caterpillar tractor was purchased with
m o n e y borrowed from the L a n d Bank, and that made a g r e a t difference: six
acres were broken in a s i n g l e y e a r ! Workable land became available much
faster than before. What a difference it made! As the years went by they
g r a d u a l l y cleared land for a g a r d e n , for g r a z i n g , a n d for raising hay a nd
some oats. Additional animals were added; more land was cleared; more
crops raised. Barns a n d outhouses were built, enough to house a dozen
milking cows and 8 0 0 chickens.
G u s learned from early on to h e l p with the chores. At the age of 8 he
milked some of the cows before he went to school. (He went to the Swedish
school at I n d e p e n d e n c e . ) After he finished school at 16, he worked f u l l - t i me
o n the f a r m . T h e sisters got m a r r i e d . The y o u n g e r brother started to work
for a plywood company in Olympia. A capable m a n , he got into m a n a g e m e nt
a n d became an important stockholder. Gus stayed on the f a r m , a n d , as his
father aged, did more a n d m o r e of the work. H e took over the farm in 1 9 4 9,
the y e a r he m a r r i e d H e l e n , who had g r o w n u p in N o r t h Dakota and was the
d a u g h t e r of a Swedish mother and a F i n n i s h f a t h e r . 3 6 G u s a n d H e l e n had a
d a u g h t e r i n 1 9 5 0 , their o n l y child. Both mother and d a u g h t e r worked on the
f a r m , the d a u g h t e r d o i n g m a n y t h i n g s which were u s u a l l y considered chores
for a f a r m boy. She finished high school, went to college, and left to work for
a large i n s u r a n c e company. Helen died in 1987.
T o a u g m e n t h i s i n c o m e , G u s started to work part time as a d r i v e r for the
Darigold D a i r y C o m p a n y , a n d later for a feed c o m p a n y . A n outside job a nd
working the farm got to be too m u c h . T h e farm was a good i n v e s t m e n t but
did not b r i n g i n m u c h i n c o m e — s o m e t h i n g v e r y typical for the f a r m s i n the
area. I n 1 9 6 8 , G u s sold the farm in Independence Valley and built a home
o n five acres at James Road, a short distance from Rochester.
I n m y i n t e r v i e w , G u s Bowman (see above) added to the story about the
R u n e b e r g Lodge and Swede H a l l:
I n 1 9 3 5 , I j o i n e d the Lodge with 35 other y o u n g people. M e m b e r s h ip
was 140. The old b u i l d i n g down on Independence Road ( M a p # 3)
was too small, and the C h a i r m a n said, "We have to f i n d n e w g r o u nd
a n d a n e w home and m u c h more space for p a r k i n g . " T h e days of
walking or r i d i n g after a horse in a carriage on poor roads were gone.
36
T h e arrival of automobiles had made c o n s t r u c t i o n of good roads a
necessity, and distances were no l o n g e r a problem. We all went to
work. We bought two acres at A l b a n y Street in Rochester, where the
H a l l is now. It was all in b r u s h . We took it out a n d burned it. We
bought two big warehouses in M a l o n e . We all went down there, tore
down the b u i l d i n g s , got the l u m b e r out, and the guys with trucks
hauled it u p to Rochester. We also tore down the old Swede H a l l a nd
brought that l u m b e r over. I n the middle of the two acres we p u t up
a one-story building, 50 feet wide, 125 feet long. T h e main entrance
is to the n o r t h , with coatrooms and bathrooms, and then the large
open space for m e e t i n g s a n d dances. The b u i l d i n g was finished in
1 9 3 9 .
Swede Hall
G u s smiled at the memory, as he spoke about building the floor:
T h e joists for the dance floor were 5 x 2 4 inches and almost 30 feet
i n l e n g t h . That was a floor that could take care of all the people
d a n c i n g Swedish polkas, hambos, schottisches, and old time waltzes!
It w o u l d n ' t break, however hard they stomped.
A t the south end is a raised scene, and the wall that separates this
part from the kitchen and d i n i n g area. . .
Much of the work on the new hall was done by volunteers, but it
was necessary to borrow money to buy the land and finish the
building. Total cost was close to $5,000, said Gus. A n d the building
saw much use; for dances, weddings, birthday parties, concerts, the
coronation dinner with the election of a queen and attendants from
37
the High School to celebrate Swede Day, at Midsummer, with a
parade, dance around the maypole, folk dancing, and other entertain­ment.
Much work was needed to keep everything going. There were
dinners and dances to raise money, and in four years the Lodge was
free of debt. For a time the organization continued to flourish. In
1950, there were 93 benefit and 84 social members, for a total of 177.37
In the long run, the Runeberg Society met the same fate as so many
other ethnic associations: its numbers declined drastically over the
years. Its members grew old, many died; very few, if any, younger
members joined. The insurance aspects of the organization decreased
greatly in importance, as the effects of the social security laws from
the 1930s started to be felt. Fewer and fewer people were left to do
the work. Gus Bowman has been the chairman for more than forty
years. "We have now only 8 active members, not enough to even elect
Board Members to carry on regular Lodge activities. We could not
take care of the building and in 1979 we sold it for $ 25,000 to the
Grand Mound and Rochester Citizens Group." Some of the old
Runeberg Lodge members continue to serve in that organization.
Interior of Swede Hall. (Note the floor!)
For 20 years, Gus has sold tickets for dances and dinners. He still
helps set up and put away tables and chairs. Young looking elderly
38
ladies shop, bake, prepare and serve dinners, and clean up. They
show the same spirit of adventure and responsibility as earlier
generations. They work hard, build new lives, work for the communi­ty,
and enjoy the fun and happiness that young people showed at the
dances fifty years and more ago. Once a month they and people of
their own age get together and dance the old hambos, schottisches,
and waltzes on a floor that shows few signs of its age.
Summary
Almost a century ago, many immigrants came from northern
Sweden and Finland to western Washington. Some settled 20 miles
south of Puget Sound in the Rochester-Independence Valley area. The
immigrants felt at home with some aspects of life and nature, but
they found many differences as well. Many came with dreams of
taking land and establishing a farm. Only the earliest settlers got
easily cleared prairie land. Most had to settle for parcels with the
stumps still standing after the old growth timber had been cut down.
The majority of the farms were small, 20 to 40 acres, and only a few
reached 100 acres or more. Never easy, life in the early years was
especially hard. The men had to take jobs in the logging camps or
sawmills of the area to raise needed cash. Wives and children were
often left to carry the burdens of farm work. Clearing the stumps
seemed to take forever. Prosperity was hard-earned and often
fleeting.
The stories of these settlers echo the history of immigration and
settlement in earlier decades and other places. In addition to building
farms, homes, and communities, these Swedish, Finland-Swedish, and
Finnish immigrants built schools, churches, and social organizations.
They celebrated their roots and their new lives, and to this day their
descendants do the same.
Much has been written about life in the early days of this area,
and a great deal more could be. Many old timers, and some not so
old, have shared their experiences and knowledge and greatly
contributed to this article. They deserve warm thanks!
NOTES
1 Much in this article was drawn from interviews with residents and/or individuals
who have long connections with this region including Gus Bowman, Dick Erickson,
Sylvia Huhta Erstrom, Bill Johnson, and Jan Forsman Watson. Their stories are rich and
39
informative. For example, Bill Johnson described how: At the turn of the century his
grandfather bought a home on 20 acres along the Black River, an uneven piece of land
with 3,000 feet of waterfront. (Map, #2) It was 3/4 of a mile from Gate City. There was
a covered bridge over the river into town, and it was close to the Gate City Lumber
Company Mill and the hotels, saloons, and shops. The house was built about 1888,
partly of lumber from an older home on the same place, built 30 years earlier. In those
days, it was not so easy to get lumber. Whatever was available would be used. In later
years additions and changes were made to the house. His grandfather sold the place
in 1940, when he became a widower. In 1973, he bought it back. This story, as well as
many others, run through this article.
2 Thomas and Joseph gave their name to the center for the logging and milling
operations, Bordeaux, founded in 1887, which grew to a busy town of several hundred
people, with offices, stores, hotel, living quarters, and a school. After years of intensive
logging, the town declined and was finally abandoned in 1941. (Bill Johnson interview)
3 David James, "Rochester Area Historic Bus Tour," 22 June 1991, The Thurston County
Historic Commission, 10; and Ruth Kirk and Carmela Alexander, Exploring Washington's
Past. A Road Guide to History, revised edition (Seattle, WA: University of Washington
Press, 1990, 96, 97,171, 404-5, and 455.
4 Anna Ditch and Hilma Englund, A Little History of Independence Valley (Olympia, WA:
State Capitol Museum, 1976), 1.
5 David James, From Grand Mound to Scatter Creek. The Homes of Jamestown, 2nd edition
(Olympia, WA: State Capitol Historical Association, 1981).
6 Alma Nix and John Nix, The History of Lewis County, Washington (Chehalis, WA: Lewis
County Historical Society, 1985), 21.
7 K.G. Olin, Alaska, Volume 1: Ryska Tiden (Jakobstad, 1995), 241ff.
8 Anders Myhrman, "The Finland-Swedes in America," SAHQ XXXI:1 (January 1980),
16.
9 Alma Nix, biography of Lennart Huhta, 193.
1 0 Myhrman, 26.
1 1 Janet E. Rasmussen, New Land, New Lives. Scandinavian Immigrants to the Pacific
Northwest (Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press, 1993).
1 2 See: Robert A. Weinstein, Grays Harbor 1883-1913 (Westford, MA: Murry Printing
Company, 1978); and David James, Grisdale. Last of the Logging Camps. A Photo Story of
Simpson Camps from 1890 to 1986 (Fairfield, WA: Mason County Historical Society and
Galleon Press, 1986).
1 3 The name "springboard" came from the springy feeling when standing on the board,
and because the fellers need to spring quickly from the board as the tree started to fall.
Fellers on springboards and loggers debarking the trees had to be strong, agile and
quick. The springboards and logs were usually slippery. As soon as they could afford
it, fellers got the kind of footwear that was needed for safety. These were leather boots
with steel caulks and spikes in the thick soles, about a quarter of an inch long. Whether
custom made or bought in a store, it was still necessary to break in the shoes by
getting them very wet and wearing them as they dried so they would fit better. It was
also very important to grease the shoes to preserve the leather and insure dry feet. Bear
grease was highly prized as one of the best boot greases available.
1 4 Bill Johnson interviews.
1 5 Bill Johnson interviews.
1 6 Ditch and Englund, 18.
1 7 Bill Johnson interviews.
1 8 Myhrman, 24.
1 9 Bill Johnson interviews.
40
2 0 Sylvia Erstrom interview.
2 1 Ditch and Englund.
2 2 Dick Erikson, The Erickson Family History. From Esse, Finland to Independence,
Washington. 500 Years of History (Federal Way, WA: Privately published, 1996).
2 3 Ditch and Englund, 8ff.
2 4 Ditch and Englund, 12ff.
2 5 Ditch and Englund.
2 6 Ablin Hilding Fogelquist, Seventy-fifth Anniversary Saint Mark's Lutheran Church,
Rochester, Washington (Rochester, WA: pamphlet for church members, 1980), 4.
2 7 Fogelquist, 5.
2 8 Ditch and Englung, 16.
2 9 Ditch and Englung.
3 0 Mrs. Jan Forsman-Watson, a third generation immigrant whose grandfather came to
the area in 1909, teaches English and Social Studies at the Rochester High School. She
is interested in the history of the area and has inspired students to study history by
helping them find out more about their ancestors in the area and their genealogies. One
of these students, Ryan C. Grant, made a study of the cemetery, recording 167 grave
sites and whatever information was available including last names, first and middle
name, dates of birth and death, family relations (wife or husband, son or daughter),
and cause of death. Copies of this interesting project are available. (Jan Forsman
Watson. The Finn Hill Cemetery, Rochester High School, 1994 and Grand Mound
Cemetery, 'Tombstone Readings," Thurston County, WA, 1995.)
3 1 Bowman interview.
3 2 F. Scott, Sweden: The Nation's History, 2nd edition (Carbondale, IL: SIU Press, 1988),
353-5 and 410.
3 3 Anders Myhrman, "A History of Swede Finns in Rochester, Washington" in The
Swedish Finn Historical Society Newsletter, Vol. 6 (1997), 41.
34 Ritual, Runebergorden, Tredje omarbetade upplagan, 1930 (Duluth, MN: Interstate
Printing Co., 1930).
3 5 C. Vern Mattson, "History of the International Order of Runeberg," The Swedish Finn
Historical Society Newsletter, Vol. 2 (1993), 47.
3 6 Gus's mother died in January 1950. Ed moved to Bucoda, where two daughters were
living. He died in 1967, at the age of 89.
3 7 Myhrman, 41.
41